


Undisclosed Desires

by Green_Arrows_of_Karamel (Mare9548)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hate to Love, Stalking, loads of UST, mostly light angst but it gets heavier before the happy ending, the more they fight they more in love they are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-03 00:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mare9548/pseuds/Green_Arrows_of_Karamel
Summary: People seldom show their true face to the world. Nobody knows this better than Felicity Smoak. She worked hard to get where she is and nothing, not even a nuisance like having a stalker, can stop her. When the threat proves to be more serious than she thought, Felicity is forced to hire Green Arrow Security. Her reluctance to have a bodyguard, shadowing her all day long, transforms itself into a —irrational, some would say— dislike for the man in charge of her safety.No other client had ever driven Oliver so crazy as Felicity Smoak does. That has nothing to do with her mesmerizing beauty or her astonishing intelligence but everything to do with her exasperating stubbornness. Honestly, he doesn't know what’s her problem is with him. If it wasn't because, Thea, his little sister, made him promise that he’d personally protect the woman, he would have quit months ago. It takes very little to ignite the fire between them. A single innocent comment can turn into an epic battle of vicious words, with the only purpose of irking each other.Everyone around them watches all happening from the front row. They ask themselves what will befall first… Felicity and Oliver killing each other, or realizing that they’re in love.





	1. Blind Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearies,
> 
> One of my readers insisted, I asked, and some of the rest said yes, so here I go again. I've been writing this fic since a year ago and I did more than a half of it. My intention was to write the whole thing before publishing but after months of not writing a single word for it, I realize I need some encouragement. What better can I get than to know what all you think about, right?
> 
> FYI, I'm thinking to stick to an every-2-weeks schedule on Mondays so you have a good start of the week. How does sounds? Fair? 
> 
> Without further ado, here it is. I hope you all like it.
> 
> PS: A huge thanks to Laurabella2930 for her wonderful editing skills.

Felicity considers staying in her car, avoiding the freezing rain that keeps pouring endlessly from the sky. She stalls even when the comfortable warmth of her home allures her to go in. Her front door is less than 30 feet away, it shouldn’t be such a hard decision to make, yet there she is, dragging through the agony that means getting soaked by the heavy sleet storm. To her dismay, the downpour gives no indication of relenting any time soon. If ever. Star City is enduring the worst winter in a century.

The relief of taking her red pumps off and laying down underneath the covers of her soft, cozy bed is the motivation that finally makes Felicity leave the shelter of her car. She is exhausted after a long day of work. Being the head of her own successful company is all she ever dreamed of. The technological field is competitive, so she has more to prove than anyone else. Felicity Smoak is among the top ten of the most successful entrepreneurs in the country and she alone is under the age of thirty. Many people wish she’d fail but she has the conviction to do her best. By using her company, Felicity is determined to help to make other people’s lives better.

After eighteen long hours of work, she makes the bold move and finally begins preparing to exit her car. She glances down over the crumpled black material of her overlooked umbrella. Her eyes scan across the frayed material with caution as she slips her fingers along the oddly brittle edges. Irritated, her bright lips curve when she finds to her dismay that the umbrella in her car is of no use. Felicity covers herself the best she can but the cold rainwater nearly saturates her sturdy bones in the short walk.

By the time she when reaches the small covered porch of her front door, she resembles a drowned rat. She scolds herself inwardly when she has trouble opening the door, fumbling with the key. The cold makes her shiver; the air made her heart quicken while she continues to feel foolish at her own doorstep.

As she struggles there, the scent of a delicious meal invades her nostrils, making her tummy roar with hunger. Most likely, Mrs. Fernandes, her neighbor next door is making a late supper.

After a second or two, Felicity manages to open the door at long last, allowing her to get into her dry, warm heaven. Felicity groans in misery as she goes in because the marvelous smell of food is stronger inside. It reminds her all that she can expect tonight is nothing but a frozen dinner. She sucks at cooking. Big time. Several trips to the ER for food poisoning are the testimony to it. So, frozen meals and takeouts are the only things that prevent her from starving to death.

However, ordering food in this weather is impractical. She’d have to wait until the delivery person got to her house with the precious goods and, given the weather, it would take forever. On the other hand, it will take mere minutes using the microwave to get a hot meal before going to bed.

Fatigue puts her brain in automatic mode. She drops her drenched coat along with her worthless umbrella to the floor, next to where she ditches her purse and shoes before leaving her keys on the table with a clank. Then she heads to the nearest lamp.

“What the frak?!” she gasps when she clicks the light on.

Her little cozy home that she loves isn’t in the same conditions as it had been that morning. Instead of everything being a little messy, her things were in a strange freaky state of order. The home is in a condition of odd perfection. Besides her own belongings, there are new things she has never seen before. Examples being the two bouquets of roses adorning the living room. The scent of the flowers is so strong that it is blending itself with the aroma of the food.

On her kitchen counter, the table is set for her, while the dinner takes its time cooking in the oven. It is then that Felicity realizes her mistake. Mrs. Fernandes isn’t making a late meal after all. No, she isn’t. Someone else has forced an entry into Felicity’s townhouse and prepared the dinner for her. Now the mystery to solve is finding the identity of the perpetrator.

The first living soul that Felicity comes up with as the engineer is Donna, her mother, but that doesn’t make any sense. As far as Felicity knows, her mom isn’t in town for a visit, and even if she is, Felicity inherited her pitiful skills in the kitchen from her. So, unless Donna came to the city unannounced and learned how to cook through osmosis in the time they haven't seen each other, then her mother didn't make all of this.

Felicity jumps when her cell phone rings and hesitates in answering the call. Whoever is contacting her has the number blocked. Her common sense advises against it but Felicity hates mysteries. Somehow, deep in her bones, she knows that the person at the other end of the line is who has broken in her home. Felicity’s bewilderment turns into terror then.

“Hello, who is this?” she says, hoping that her tone projects the outrageousness invading her. The growing fear inside her made her fail in her attempt.

“Do you like what I did for you?” asks a deep voice. Felicity can’t recognize it because it is distorted as if electronically modulated, but she is sure that it belongs to a man. “I hope you’re in the mood for a vegetable quiche for dinner. It should be done in another fifteen minutes. I think that should leave you enough time to enjoy the bath that’s waiting for you.”

Cold terror creeps through Felicity when she realizes how easily someone has shattered the sanctity of her home. The emotion swells fast, blending with the bitter anger that burns in her veins. She tries to repress her feelings while she is talking to the man. Felicity doesn’t want him to know how much he disturbs her. “Who is this? Who are you? How did you get my number?”

“Oh, my darling, I should be offended that you’re asking that. You should know. Who else takes care of you, if not me?”

Another wave of dread rushes through Felicity when she connects the dots about whom is calling. The moniker that he uses gives him away. It has been over a year since she started receiving gifts from an unknown person, who always calls her “my darling”.

At first, Felicity believed it to be a simple secret admirer, but that changed when the letters started coming. These notes are bold, containing details that nobody should know about but her. Felicity had a stalker in her freshman year at MIT, yet that boy didn’t scare her as much as does this new guy. This man is right down unnerving. She notified the police about the stalker but they don’t find much evidence to go on, so finding his identity isn’t even a remote possibility. To her dismay, the man is careful to leave no trace with which to track him down.

“Well, if I don’t know your name, how can I remember you?” she quips. “And how did you get into my house?” she demands.

“I won’t bore you with menial details,” he evades, steadfast. “You need to rest because, honestly, you look exhausted. Being soaked head to toe isn’t good for you, so I suggest you, taking a bath to warm yourself up before you get a cold. Then, you should eat dinner before going to bed. And don’t worry about anyone breaking in while you sleep, you’re safe ‘cause I’ll be watching you. Sweet dreams, my darling,” he says as he hangs up.

After the call ends, her cell phone slips from her hand, hitting the carpet beneath her feet with a muted thud. She holds on to the last few hairs of common sense she has, which are slipping away from her by the second. Out of fear, she picks up the phone again and makes a new call to the detective that leads her case.

“Detective Lance? Hi, this is Felicity Smoak." She doesn't even try to hide the terror in her voice. It shakes as she struggles to force her words out. "Sorry to bother you, but, um, I…”

“Ms. Smoak, are you alright? Is there anything I can help you with? Did the man send you something new?”

“He— he broke in. When I got home from work, I saw that— that he… he is at my house and—”

“Are you okay? Is he still there?!”

“No, no. He left before I got here but he’s watching me. He called me and told me so.”

“Could you do something for me, Ms. Smoak? Go and stay with a neighbor or ask them to stay with you while I get there. I’m leaving the station now. Can you do that?”

“Get a neighbor?”

“It’s not safe for you to stay alone. Do it. I’m ten minutes away.”

“Okay,” she says numbly, cutting off the call.

Felicity tries to drown her anxiety with deep breaths and calming thoughts, but it grows until her precious self-control snaps. The emotion washes over her like a flooding river, making her body shake. Her fear becomes embedded in every cell of her body, leaving a bitter taste in the back of her mouth.

She can’t believe that the stalker is watching her, so she wonders how? Instead of listening to the advice that Detective Lance gave her, Felicity goes to the window to check if anyone is spying from outside. The street is empty. No sane person would be outside with the raging storm at its peak but Felicity doubts that this guy has all his marbles in place.

Inspecting the desolated street, another notion crosses her mind. As a sick conjecture, she muses If he isn’t out there, then how can he be watching her? Ignoring the chill along her spine, she considers if her stalker has a far worse method of spying. Felicity feels true terror when she asks the silent but obvious question. Can he have installed bugs in her home without her knowledge? To tell the truth, an hour before she would’ve asseverated that it is impossible but now she questions if this is the first time that he got in.

Frantic, she rummages through the living room for any hidden camera. She does the same with kitchen, looking in every place she can think of. Felicity turns her apartment upside down but she finds nothing. Yet, that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything there.

When she is heading to her room to search there, somebody knocks at her door. Frightened by the sudden arrival, she shrieks. As soon as Felicity hears the voice of Detective Lance on the other side of the door, she breathes in relief. Felicity let the detective in, who brought along his partner, Lucas Hilton, plus two more officers. They searched the apartment to make sure there is nobody else inside.

Then, Lance sits next to her on the couch, asking her to tell him everything that has happened. Felicity does her best to recall every detail but the sick feeling of being violated by the simple presence of the creep in her home keeps distracting her. The simple task of staying seated on the couch is difficult because just imagining the stalker, sitting in the same spot where she is, makes her feel nauseated. All Felicity wants is to leave. To run off.

Everything in her home is tainted now. All her things. He ruined every single thing that he dared to touch. Even her clothes. The stalker went through her closet and laid down the only black negligee she owns on top of her bedspread as a silent suggestion for her evening’s nightwear.

She wants to burn it all.

“Lance, can you come here for a moment, please?” Detective Hilton asked him, standing in the hallway.

After nodding to his partner once in acknowledgment, Lance turns his attention back to Felicity. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

But that is too much to ask of her. Felicity tails the detectives back to her room. Once there, she finds that Hilton is showing a small device to Lance. “Th— That’s a camera, isn’t it? He has been watching me. Oh, God!” Felicity prattles as she battles the urge to throw up.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Detective Lance comes closer, giving her an awkward, yet comforting hug. He hasn’t been anything but nice to her, since the first time they talked. “Everything will be fine. We’re gonna catch him, okay? I promise.”

For more than Felicity wants to believe in Lance's conviction, she has serious doubts that the good cop will be able to keep his promise. Looking at the results he and the SCPD have gotten so far, facts speak for themselves.

“You can't pass the night here. Do you have a friend you can stay with?” Detective Hilton asks her.

“I think I’m gonna go to a hotel.”

“It would be better if you’re not alone,” Lance tries to persuade her.

“I’ll be okay, Detectives,” Felicity insists. “Thank you for your concern.”

“Ms. Smoak—”

“Honestly, Detective Lance, I’ll be okay. I just… I need to be alone.”

“Okay,” he concedes reluctantly. “But at least, let that the officers Smith and Jones keep an eye on you.”

The two officers come forward. “We will be right outside the hotel if you need us, Ms. Smoak,” says Officer Jones.

That is not what she wants but Lance won’t let her leave if she doesn’t accept the police escort. “Fine,” Felicity mutters, knowing if she doesn’t let Lance try to keep her safe, he’d simply go ahead and add more conditions to her being allowed to leave.

All she needs is to get out there. She has to put that night behind her while carrying on with her life as normal. Neither will she bother any of her friends with this; she can do it on her own. Felicity always has. Hanging on the conviction that she is strong, Felicity reminds herself that no one, not even a psycho, is going to stop her from living her life.

Or that is what she kept telling herself.

Before letting her leave, the detectives give their word that will contact her after the crime lab unit does its job and she's free to return to her place, as well as sitting for a following interview in case she remembers any other detail about tonight.

When she gets to the front door of her house, she puts her shoes and coat back on, ignoring their drenched state. With the same impulse, she grabs her purse, then her keys before abandoning what is no longer her home. It won’t be ever again. The rain has abated somewhat but, this time, Felicity welcomes the icy shower. She appreciates the cleansing drops, washing away the intangible filth she carries on herself.

She gets into her car and drives away with the police cruiser following her closely while she busies herself with the task of losing herself in the dark, freezing night.

By the sunrise, Felicity gets up tired of fighting nightmares during the few hours of sleep she dared to get. When exhaustion had beaten her up into oblivion, she dreamt that a faceless man took her against her will and locked her up in a dark, cold place. Speaking in the same creepy, distorted voice she heard on the phone, he told her that she is his; that he would never let her go. She screamed, fighting him but she wasn’t strong enough. Felicity was powerless to save herself.

She was defenseless.

That is a feeling that had never suited her.

Felicity is angry with the guy but even more with herself, for letting him rob her self-confidence. For crying out loud, she is the CEO of her own multimillionaire company. She’s spent years overcoming obstacles in order to make something of her life.

Triumphing over those obstacles, to get where she is hasn’t been easy. From struggling to have a decent life with her single mother when she is younger to withstanding sexism in the business world. Felicity has been taught through various experiences just how strong she is. Her life can go to hell if she allows some sick psycho to rattle her this way. Fear won’t control her. It can’t.

So, with renewed resolve, Felicity carries on as if it is a normal day. After taking a shower, she has a meager breakfast, basically just coffee. Then, she went to the first open store near the hotel to buy some new clothes, including a pair of shoes. Once she finds some pieces she likes, Felicity gets rid of what she wore the day before. She doesn’t want to see or touch them ever again. Feeling as ready as she can be facing the world, she goes to work; even though she had planned the day before to take the morning off.

Having such hasty start of her day, it isn’t a surprise for Felicity when she gets to Smoak Technologies sooner than she does on any other day. In silence, she thanks her mother for raising her as wisely as she had. Felicity knows that despite her firmness of purpose, she can’t hide her state of mind under the guise of her nearly perfect make-up. Neither can she completely disguise the bags under her eyes due to the lack of sleep.

The fewer people run into her, the fewer questions she will have to answer. She needs to avoid people on this day. Felicity is obligated to it in order to maintain her emotional stability. Of course, that doesn’t include her favorite employee from the PR department, who also happens to be her dear friend, Thea Queen. That isn’t because Felicity wants to tell Thea the recent developments but rather Thea won’t let to be left out of her friend’s life events. So when the brunette came barging into her office, Felicity sighs in resignation to the coming interrogation.

“Hey, Felicity, I saw your car in the parking lot. I thought you were going to tak…” she trails off, widening her eyes. “Oh, my God! Felicity, what happened to you?”

“Oh, Thea…” Felicity tells her, doing the best not to have a breakdown in the process.

“That bastard!” Thea hisses while she gives Felicity a comforting hug.

Thea made Felicity sit on the couch while she recounted the events of the night before. “I told you that guy is dangerous! And you ignored me,” she continues, pulling away from Felicity.

Yes, she did ignore her friend's warning, but Felicity doesn’t want the reminder, “Thea...”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yes, you did tell me, but I didn’t want to make a huge thing out of this. I did what I needed to do, which is to report the stalking to the police. They said that they would handle it.”

“Yes, and what a wonderful job they’ve done so far,” Thea remarks with her sarcasm slashing through the air. “And it is a huge thing! What could have happened if he’d been there when you got home, huh? This guy… his obsessive behavior is escalating. That makes me nervous. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know.”

“Please, tell me that you didn’t spend the night at your house.”

“Oh, no, no. I— Um… I stayed in a suite at the Marriott.”

“In a hotel? Felicity!” Thea shakes her head, incredulous. “Why did you call me or came to my place, huh?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. It is not nice to knock a friend’s door in the middle of the night, you know. Besides, Detective Lance put me under protective custody.”

Thea groans in an unladylike manner. “I swear, girl, sometimes, you’re too self-reliant for your own good, did you know that? And where are these cops that should be guarding you? ‘Cause I don’t see them anywhere,” Thea says, turning her head and peering outside Felicity’s office through the glass walls.

“Outside.”

“Felicity, I think you need to go to the eye doctor to check the formula of your glasses, ‘cause nobody’s out there.”

Felicity deadpans. “I meant outside-outside. Of the building. In their cruiser.”

Thea heaves a frustrated sigh, “I don’t know why I bother getting mad at you anyways. I know you’re going to say something offhanded like that. I bet you use your loud voice to make them stay there, didn’t you?.”

For the first time in hours, Felicity smiles. Just a little. “I might have.”

“You know what you should do?”

“What?”

“You should talk with my brother, Oliver.”

Thea’s older brother, who Felicity met in person only once. However, because Thea talks about him all the time, Felicity feels like she knows him since forever based on Thea’s endless Oliver speeches but all she truly knows is about his distinguished history in the army.

“What? Why?”

“Because he co-runs a security company with his best friend from the army. I think I've mentioned it before. They can protect you until this guy is in jail.”

“I’m not hiring bodyguards, Thea. I refuse to that. I’m not some new rich brat that needs her private bullies to give herself importance.” Even having the position without mentioning the money for it, she lacked the willingness. Felicity hated the social climbers that don’t waste the opportunity to show off their money. She is a simple girl, with simple needs in life.

“Ugh, Felicity! It’s not for being pretentious; it’s for your safety!”

“I don’t want anyone following me around all day, Thea. I’ll just move out and change my phone number. That way he won’t know where I am.”

“And what if it’s not enough? He sent you gifts here too, am I right? So unless you move the entire company to a new location, telling no one where it is, he can find you. And if you want me to tell you the truth—”

“I don’t.”

Thea ignored her, continuing as if Felicity hadn’t grumbled, “I don’t think this guy is going to stop stalking you because you change where you live. So, please, let me talk to Oliver, inviting him to come to have a chat with you. You lose nothing by having a conversation with him. The least that it can happen is that he gives you some advice on how to deal with this effectively.”

Felicity isn’t fond of the idea but Thea is right. Talking to her brother doesn’t mean Felicity will hire his services. Exhaling deeply, she agrees, “Fine, contact your brother and tell him to come to see me. But hey! I’m not promising anything. It’s just a talk.”

“Okay, just a talk. Although, I’m sure you’re like him when you meet him. I’m not telling this ‘cause he’s my brother but he’s the best at what he does. You’re going to be safe with him.”


	2. Under His Protection

It is by the end of the morning when Thea gets in touch with his big brother at last. Reaching him through his cell phone proved to be unfruitful. She finally calls Green Arrow Security Headquarters, which is fondly known as The Bunker to close friends and family, when she grows desperate.

The receptionist tells her that he isn’t in the city. He is in a flash business trip, visiting one of his biggest and most eccentric clients, a Mrs. Esrin Fortuna, who moved out from Star City to Hub City a few weeks back. Oliver is doing a routine supervision of the men of her security detail. Thea finally reaches him on the phone after call number twenty-three (not that she's counting them; her phone does that for her).

Oliver tells her that he is getting in the car to drive back home, therefore, they can talk in the afternoon, when she is off work. For her, that isn’t fast enough. Her concern for Felicity is tremendous, which keeps growing every second. The stress is more than just friendly concern because Felicity is downplaying the situation. She is avoiding her own feelings of stark, cold terror and ignoring the state it is leaving her in. Thea can distinguish between a calm Felicity and a wrecked one, regardless of the great effort her friend-slash-boss puts into hiding her feelings.

She calculates how much time will take for Oliver returning to Star City then going to his office. According to that, Thea puts off her lunch hour, using that time to pay her brother a visit. As soon as the elevator doors open, the familiar noise of a busy office fills her ears: people talking, phones ringing, steps echoing of people coming back and forth. But above all that, she recognizes the distinct voice of her brother’s business partner and best friend, John Diggle. She locates him in a second. He is standing a few feet away from the main entrance, talking with a younger guy… Thea does a double take before silently labeling him as a handsome man. If she recalls correctly, his name is Roy Harper.

Diggle glances to where she stands, smiling at her. He says something to Roy, who walks away right after that. If she weren’t so preoccupied with the purpose of talking to her brother, Thea would’ve noticed how the young guy turns his head to glimpse at her. Instead, she heads to where John waits for her.

“Hey, Thea, you’re in luck, if you’ve come to see your brother. He just got here.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping for that, ‘cause I need to talk to him. And with you, if you got five minutes.”

“For you, always. What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, but someone else is not. Let’s go to Oliver’s office, and I’ll explain everything to you both.”

She knows she has John’s interest piqued. Her reasoning is sound. If her big brother refuses to listen to her, then John will be there to convince him that the job is not only a good idea but also a necessary one. Ollie stepped down from active duty a few months back. Thea isn’t sure why; he holds the reason to himself. Trailing behind John, she goes to her brother’s office and, as soon as he watches her getting in, Oliver knits his brows in a frown. “Thea? Um, I thought you said you were coming by later like after work.”

“No, you said that, not me,” she reminds him, as she sits in the chair across his desk. Diggle stays by her side, with his muscular arms folded across his chest. “I need to talk to you. Now.”

“Everything okay? You sounded off on the phone and, I can see that you’re upset.”

“No, everything’s not okay. I’m fine, but Felicity isn’t.”

“Felicity? Who’s she?” John asks.

Both Queen siblings look up at Dig. Oliver says, “Her boss,” at the same time that Thea declares, “My best friend.”

“And I need you to protect her,” Thea continues, looking back at her brother and penetrating him with her intense eyes.

“Speedy, you know that I’m in an administrative capacity now. I’m not in the field anymore.”

Thea has always understood her brother’s heart and she recognizes that tone of his. He won’t admit it but he misses being in action. In that second, the light bulb goes on in her head. She wants to berate herself for having missed the connection before. By asking Oliver to take Felicity as a client, she won’t be only helping her dear friend but her beloved brother as well. Sitting behind a desk has never agreed with him.

“Don’t care, Ollie. You have to, okay? And if it’s both of you, even better,” she pleads, batting her eyelashes to John.

For Diggle the urge to accept is spontaneous. He doesn’t need to say anything because Thea knew he’d help her from the moment he saw her in the hall. Oliver, however, will need a harsher shove.

“Please. There’s this sick guy that’s been stalking her for a year now. If that isn’t horrible enough, he went to her apartment last night.”

“What?!” both Oliver and Diggle cry out in unison.

“Yeah! The police found hidden cameras, too.”

Oliver sits straighter and lowers his voice, in a way that Thea recognizes as a sign of true worry. As if he senses an imminent danger. He always has done that but it became more noticeable since he came back from Afghanistan and retired from the army. “But, is she okay? Did the son of a bitch do something to her?”

Thea rejoices in witnessing Oliver’s intrinsic protective response surging in just a heartbeat. She is counting on it. “No, he didn’t harm her physically, thank goodness. She found a dinner cooking in the oven and her clothes all jumbled up, but the guy was long gone before she came back from work. Although…” she pauses for a moment and surveys her brother’s eyes. They are firmly set in a cold yet determined line when she adds, “He called taunting her once she discovered what he did.”

“You said that the police found bugs in her house,” Diggle recalls. “Did he left them last night or…?”

“For what Felicity told me, she’s not sure. Could be but only God knows. She hadn’t noticed anything until he told her that he was watching her. I’m praying for the cameras to be new but I’m thinking that…”

“He broke in before and he’s been spying on her for a while,” Oliver finishes for her.

Thea nods. “That’s why I want you to protect her, Ollie.”

“I could assign Rob Scott for the job,” Oliver ponders. “He’s a decent operative and—”

“No, no, no. It has to be both of you,” Thea insists. “I don’t doubt that Mr. Scott is very good at his job, or he’d not be working with you, but I only trust you, and Diggle. This guy went from sending her unrequested gifts to breaking into her house to spying on her. The situation is turning for the worst and I’m afraid for Felicity, so please, make an appointment,” she begs, “Go and talk to her. Please, please.”

“Speedy…”

“C’mon, man,” Diggle interjects. “You told me that you were willing to take a job in special cases. This falls into that category, don’t you think?”

Thea keeps her features impassive, aware that her brother is on the edge of relenting in his position. Showing smugness at this point could do more harm than good. She will beam and jump, as she is doing on the inside, once Oliver gives her his word that he’ll do it. No a second before. Meanwhile, Oliver scowls at Diggle.

“John, you know why I shouldn’t take that job.”

“You know that’s a bunch of crap, Oliver. You’re going crazy, staying in this office doing paperwork all day long, man.”

“Driving everybody else insane, you mean.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Oliver heaves a long sigh and shifts his attention back to Thea, who barely can contain her excitement. “Are you going to help Felicity?” she asks, letting her hopes up.

He nods, “Yes, I’ll go to talk to her.”

“You promise? On your honor?”

“Yes, Thea. On my honor.”

She breathes in relief. The weight of the world lifts from her shoulders. Thea is sure that Oliver will protect Felicity. Not just that, but he also will find the stalker, bringing him to justice. Bouncing up from the chair, Thea rounds Oliver’s desk, throws her arms around his neck and pulls him close for a hug. Holding him as tight as she can, she tells him, “You’re the best, big bro! Thank you!”

“I know you wouldn’t take a ‘no’ for an answer.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

When Thea leaves the bunker a few minutes later, Oliver has already spoken with Felicity’s executive assistant, Gerry, scheduling an interview for the next day. With that triumph under her belt, Thea heads back to Smoak Technologies, so she can convince Felicity to stay in her place for the time being. She can’t allow her friend to spend another night in a hotel, alone.

Felicity needs the support of the people who love her. Despite the few things they have in common, both Thea and Felicity have developed a great friendship in the last several months. Their deep bond grew fast. They became sisters and Thea would do anything if Oliver needed her, so she feels Felicity is no exception.

**_The following day…_ **

 

Oliver crosses the threshold of Smoak Technologies building at 9:50 in the morning and promptly heads for the security check-up point. Approximately sixty seconds inside the modern skyscraper is all it takes for Oliver to find no fewer than five security problems.

The most concerning of all is how inattentive the guards are to the people coming in and going throughout the building. Anyone can pass them undetected. The two guards at the front desk are more concerned with telling jokes and checking their phones than they are with the safety of the building occupants. If those guards worked for him, he’d have fired them without hesitation.

He ponders over the through for a few moments before realizing that it wouldn’t have happened at GA because his employees have more sense than to be distracted. Deep down, he knows it wouldn't be a reason to fire them because they have a higher sense of responsibility and a great regard for their jobs.

Taking the opportunity to do a test, Oliver hurries to pass the checkpoint, using the sweep of the ID of the employee walking before him, to see if the guards notice his unauthorized entry. Fail of epic proportions… for the watchmen. They never stop Oliver as he heads for the elevator. Obviously, getting in is as easy as taking a candy from a baby.

Appalled at the lack of security, he continues his trip to the top floor and goes in a direct line to what he guesses is the Executive Assistant’s desk. The man behind it greets him with an affable smile. “Good morning. May I help you?” the man says.

“Hi, I’m Oliver Queen,” he identifies himself, “I have a 10:00 with Ms. Smoak.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Queen. She’s expecting you. Would you be kind enough to wait a minute, while I announce you?”

The man withdraws from his desk and heads to the CEO’s office next door. Seated in one of the comfy chairs in the waiting lounge, Oliver follows him with his eyes, observing the boss and the subordinate interacting through the clear glass walls. As he waits, he details the blonde woman that will be his boss in short order.

This isn’t the first time that he met Felicity Smoak; he did it once before at Thea’s last birthday party if he isn’t mistaken. They didn’t speak much since that very occasion. Thea introduced them and they exchanged pleasantries but he found some arbitrary reason quickly enough to leave early.

Now watching her through the glass walls, he recalls the thought he’d entertained on that night almost a year ago. He recalls that Felicity is in truth a beautiful woman. That fact hasn’t changed a bit. Her face exhibits clear signs of exhaustion and worries in the form of dark eye bags along with an ashen skin but that doesn’t diminish the beauty of her features.

Gritting his teeth, Oliver remembers that he is there for business, not to make a social visit. Exists the great possibility of she becoming his boss, therefore, he has to ban from his head any— and all the lustful thoughts about Felicity Smoak. Nothing else than an impeccable professionalism is all he should display.

His neck cracks as he snaps head up when Gerry’s voice shatters through is silent musings. “Mr. Queen, please, come in.” The man invites him into Felicity’s office.

Oliver stands quickly and allows the kind man to usher him toward his waiting client. “Thank you,” he says clearly, once he passes Gerry’s smiling face.

“Sir, would you like something to drink, coffee or water?” Gerry asks Oliver.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Ms. Smoak, would you like a refill?” he asks out of habit as Oliver gazes at her tired expression.

She glances at the steaming mug on her desk and shakes her head. “I’m good, Gerry. Please, hold all my calls. I don’t want to be interrupted.”

“Of course, Ms. Smoak,” her Executive Assistant says before leaving them alone.

“Good morning, Mr. Queen,” Felicity says, standing up. She meets him halfway, giving him a firm handshake.

“Ms. Smoak, nice to see you again. Only I wish that it’d be under different circumstances.”

“So do I. But please, sit down,” she suggests as she walks back to her chair, grabbing her cup of coffee to sip a generous gulp.

Meanwhile, Oliver takes a seat across her desk. “My sister told me about your situation. She says to me that you’re requiring the services of my company.”

“To be honest,” Felicity says, putting her mug back on her desk, “Thea had to do some convincing. I’m still doubtful that it’s necessary you know hiring personal security team just for me. I’ve always been capable of taking care of myself. I’m not a damsel in distress!”

By the fire in her voice plus the vehemence in her words, Oliver can tell how upset she is. At some level, he relates to her. He is versed in the helplessness provoked by a situation out of your control. Her desire of keeping everything the same is her only vague way of maintaining even a small sense of normalcy. Oliver has seen it before. It is the innate flight or fight response that people face danger. It is clear that her response is to fight back.

“Nobody is saying that you are one, Ms. Smoak. I can tell that you’re an incredibly strong woman that’s dealing with an awful situation in the best way possible. I will also tell you that the bravest thing in the world is to ask for help. You’ll take care of yourself by letting me do my job, which is making sure that you’re safe.”

“But what if never ends? What if the police never catch this guy, hmm? I won’t live the rest of my life with you shadowing me. No offense, but I can’t stand the thought of being stuck with you until the day I die.”

“No offense taken. But you should know that Green Arrow Security provides much more than just security personnel. We’ve gathered a large group of people with different sets of skills. Our approach is more active than reactive. In your case, we won’t only guarantee your safety, but also we’ll take every step possible to catch the person who’s stalking you.”

“The police haven’t been able to do that.”

“With pitiful resources and, of course, the lackluster budget, I can’t judge them. They’ve done the best they can with the manpower they’ve been allotted,” he fires back with both sincerity and confidence.

“So, what you’re saying is that you’ll catch this guy.”

“Yes, me with the help of my team,” he replies quickly, then adds, “And once we do, we’ll make sure that justice is done. You’ll have your life back… without me in it.”

Felicity can’t believe that she is hiring a bodyguard. A whole team of them, to be precise. Her skin itches at the idea, but she needs to be pragmatic about this. If what Mr. Queen is telling her about catching the guy is true, then she guesses that she can endure having a security detail for a while. The services are expensive but will be worthy, if she can get back to her normal life in a short time.

Their conversation drifts to the specifics of costs, as well as the changes that she will have to make. Adjustments that she hates in a heartbeat. Mr. Queen asks to restructure the Security Department of the company.

“That too?” she asks, affronted. “I mean, I’m the one who’s being harassed, not my company.”

“But I’m guessing that you spend most of your time at work. I’m assuming that the stalker has sent gifts here to your office.”

Reluctantly, she nods. “Once or twice, yes.” And by that, she means quite often.

“To me, that’s a clear tell of how unsafe you are in here. And it’d be irresponsible on my part if I didn’t warn you about the terrible security in this building. Since I put a foot inside, I’ve detected major issues that need to be handled as soon as possible. I’d start by firing the security guards posted down in the lobby because they let anything and anyone sneaks by. That’s unacceptable.”

Felicity is aghast. How dare he to make such a suggestion? “I’m not firing anyone. I created this company to help people; to give them the opportunity to have a better life, not to put them out of work!”

“Even in the risk of your own life? I praise your disposition to help others, but you have to think about yourself. If something happens to you, who will help these people then?”

Her lips fall into a grim line. Felicity has a hard time admitting that there is some truth in what Oliver is saying but she refuses to acknowledge it out loud.

“Risking my life sounds a little overdramatic, don’t you think?”

“In fact, no. An alarmingly high percentage of stalking victims, especially women, are murdered. From the little that I know about your case, things are escalating. Each stalker is different, making almost impossible to predict exactly what they’ll do next or even when. Either things never escalate or the guy makes a big leap in indulging his obsession. That’s when he could try to harm you. You need to consider that in the process of getting to you, he might hurt others as well. In a building full of people, the risk of that happening is high.”

The omen sends chills through her. Beads of cold sweat slide from the nape of her neck and to her back as her stomach knots with anxiety. She doesn’t want to believe it, that’s why she avoids looking at Oliver. His intense blue eyes hold a sincerity that she isn’t capable of dealing with right now.

“I know this is scary,” he says, softening his voice. “And all the changes can be unsettling, but they’re essential to ensure your safety. Here at your work and in your home.”

“I’m moving out. I’m not coming back to my old place.”

“A wise move,” he approves. “Did you find a new place yet? How big is it?”

“No, I haven’t found it yet. I’m going house-hunting on the weekend. Why?”

“Would be okay if I suggest a couple places? They’re secure, having plenty of space for you and the bodyguard on duty at night, which very well may end up being me.”

“Say what?! You… You want us to move in together?” Felicity chokes a little, while her words become ensnared in her throat. Hot embarrassment creeps on her neck up to her face as she wishes for the Earth to open at her feet and swallow her whole. Her brain always has the worst way to say things. “I mean not an ‘us’ as in a ‘couple-us’ like in a girlfriend-boyfriend thing. I mean living together. But not living together-together… just co-habituating in the same house. Not sharing the bed or kisses or anything.”

The more she speaks, the flustered she gets, which makes her cheeks take a darker pink shade. Oliver’s face remains beautifully stoic. Felicity is amazed but also grateful to him for not showing the same annoyance that most people manifest when her brain skips the verbal filter. She is aware that people seldom have patience with her ramblings. Even she loses her temper with herself sometimes.

“Okay, you didn’t come here to hear me babbling, and I’ve embarrassed myself enough for the day, so I’m going to shut up my mouth in three, two, one.” She presses her lips together and closes her eyes before taking a deep breath.

Being a gentleman, Oliver carries on with the conversation as if she hadn’t rambled innuendos. “My job is round the clock and three-hundred-sixty-five days a year, so yes, I’m afraid we’re going to become roommates, for the time being, Ms. Smoak.”

Accepting the defeat, she heaves a long sigh, slumping her shoulders. “Call me Felicity, then. If we’re going to live together—” she puts the brakes on hard before going on that road again. She might not need to worry about the stalker coming in person to hurt her, it seems embarrassment is going to kill her if she continues letting her brain take control. “If we’re sharing a house,” she amends.

“Then, you can call me Oliver, Felicity.” The way he says her name, rolling delicately on his tongue, provokes a warm feeling on her chest, difficult to identify. “And I’m going to keep you safe, I promise,” he announces warmly.

Their gazes locked. Felicity couldn’t have been able to break the connection, even if she wanted to. An unseen force compels her to get lost in his bright azure eyes, shining with the weight of his vow. She has no other choice but to believe him. Oliver will keep her safe.

That reassurance brings her an enormous amount of relief, accompanied by another unsettling emotion. The proudest part of herself, her ego, protests with vehemence. Felicity never had to rely on another person. Letting others help her has never been one of her stronger suits. Resentment for needing him now settles in her chest, like a thorn in her side.

“Do you know who’s stalking you?” he continues, going back to business and unaware of the disconcerting moment she is having. “Is it a former lover? I ask because, in the majority of stalking cases, the victim knows the stalker.”

“I have no idea of who he is. I truly don’t,” she says, making a huge effort to swallow the lump of anxiety stuck in her throat. Forcing herself to relive all the ugly moments that the stalker has made her endure isn’t helping to calm her nerves. “He never signs the card that he sends and he didn’t tell me when I asked him the other night.”

“Could you tell me how and when it all started?”

Felicity tells him that fifteen months ago, she started receiving little gifts: mostly flowers but candy on some occasions. She thought that it was harmless at first, who doesn’t like to get an arrangement of flowers once in a while or delicious treats. Those weren’t worthy of alarm.

That changed when the messages appeared. In them, the stalker made either filthy innuendos or angry rants. The firsts are simply disgusting while the latter are scary. Usually, the threats came when Felicity had a date with some guy.

To admit that her love life has been affected because she is afraid that the stalker could harm any of her love interest is a bitter pill to swallow. Her last date was months ago. Also, she has noticed that the frequency with which the gifts are sent has slowly increased. They started coming once every two weeks, while the last ones have an interval of only three days.

That was until two months ago when all the gifts stopped. She doesn’t know why.

“I thought he had gotten tired of my rejection,” Felicity ventures. “The police told me to give the order to security to never accept anything that didn’t have the name of the sender, so I did.”

“But somehow a few gifts managed to get sneak into your office anyway, didn’t they?”

Felicity glares at Oliver. The smug remark is unnecessary. “Yeah, well, you already established the reason why. Don’t need to go over that again.”

Oliver sighs. “I see that it’s a sore spot for you, so I can make a concession. Let me put some of my men at the entrance while I train yours. If they get my approval and pass the course with flying colors, then they can go back to work with you or anyone else, who will appreciate their learned expertise.”

“First you want them fired and now you want to train them?”

“Why not? I never meant that they’re bad men, just bad at the job. Training can change that. Think about it… we’ll both get what we want. You, being safe, and they, with an opportunity to make a good life. This job has its risk but pays well.”

Oliver didn’t have to tell her that. She is the one paying the bill.

“Fine, you can bring your men, then talk to Charles and Rickie to see if they want to train with you but, if they don’t, I won’t fire them. I can offer them another job here at Smoak Tech.”

Oliver leans on the back of the chair, gesturing with his hand, “That’s up to you. As long as your safety isn’t compromised, I got no objections.”

“So, that settles it then.”

It doesn’t because Felicity can't imagine how much her life is about to change.


	3. Dirty Looks

In the next few months, Oliver revolutionizes the life of his newest client, Felicity Smoak. He comes to know her steadfast character quite well because she fights off the changes he suggests every step of the way. An attitude that often gets on Oliver’s nerves. Establishing the level of security according to Oliver’s high standards for anyone isn’t an easy thing to do. A goal much harder to accomplish when the person he's trying to protect presents resistance to every recommendation he makes.

Felicity isn’t the first strong-minded client that he ever had, but usually, Oliver finds an easy, positive way to handle them. He doesn’t have the same luck with her. For some reason, her ability to infuriate him to the extreme surpasses his capacity to stay assertive around her. It is beyond him why she brings such heated reaction in him. They spend half of the time engrossed in a verbal fray, throwing dirty looks at each other while at it.

An exception to the rule is when they go house-hunting and he showed her the places he suggested for her to move in. The miracle of getting along with a degree of decency happened because Thea was with them. At first, Oliver wasn’t sure if his baby sister should’ve come with them but she turned out to be an enormous help. She convinced Felicity to buy the perfect place.

The loft that Felicity chose is an open, bright space with a great view. Although, Oliver isn’t thrilled with the particular great number of windows it has. The clear view into the apartment makes it too easy for anyone to spy on Felicity from the nearby buildings but, as a counterbalance, the security in the exclusive residential complex is the best of the best.

If he had had a say in the decision, he would’ve chosen that apartment, despite his reservations about it. With the master and second bedrooms in different levels within the apartment, the distance between the rooms is enough for Felicity to have the privacy she craves but, at the same time, they are close enough for Oliver’s liking, in the case of need. He can be at her side in a heartbeat.

One of their first big fights they had was when the new security system was being installed in the loft, to which Felicity insisted on taking a look at the software herself. When he refused, she hacked into it. Years later, he will be still amazed by the improvements she made to it. He realized then how brilliant her mind is. It's not difficult to see why that is the moment when he started to soften toward her.

When they moved in, the cohabitation wasn’t easy, yet, in time, they fell into an awkward but manageable domestic routine. He found out that she has no skills whatsoever for cooking, so he takes the job of feeding her properly. Oliver also noticed that, when she is more stressed with work, Felicity tends to be careless with herself. She stays late at the office and skips meals.

Oliver lost count of how many times he has forced her to take a break. To eat or sleep. When she protests, he reminds her that he is doing his job. Being willing to take a bullet for her loses its meaning if he lets her die of malnutrition or exhaustion. Oh, the arguments about that are epic. That is when they fight the hardest.

Time changed his opinion about those fights. In the beginning, he barely could stand them. After a few months, well… they’ve become a sort of an innocent flirting game.

The frequent squabbles also have an unexpected, yet pleasant effect on her. In Oliver’s opinion, that is, but not so much in hers. Felicity babbles more than she usually does. With those ramblings come the double entendres. Oliver finds himself engaging with Felicity in bickering, urging her vitality to shine brightly. Watching her passion burning hot like a sun becomes one of his favorite things about her. He likes the way in which her skin takes a lovely pink shade while an unintentional innuendo escapes from her lips.

A fool he is not. He is well aware that he has developed feelings he shouldn’t have for her. For so many reasons. The main one: she is his boss. Pleasure should never mix with business. Yet, that doesn’t deter him from enjoying the little delights Oliver can take, keeping a safe distance from her.

His growing infatuation for her brings another development in him. Not that it wasn’t true before but her safety becomes paramount for him. The thought of something happening to her under his watch gives him countless sleepless nights.

The stalker has proven to be infuriatingly elusive in spite of all the effort done to find him. Anger fills his chest every time that Oliver thinks about how he is failing Felicity in his promise. He swore to her that he’d catch the guy but it is taking longer than he thought it would. After the break-in that was the cause for Felicity to hire Oliver's bodyguard services, the guy went back to hiding for another couple of months. Total silence.

Eventually, he returned. And when he did, it was in full force. The guy sent unwanted gifts with notes almost every day. None of them got to Felicity’s reach, though. This time, Oliver made sure that security intercepted them in time.

Most likely, that was what prompted the stalker to switch tactics and phone Felicity once or twice every day instead. The little persistent bastard doesn't want to stop for anything. Neither blocking obscured numbers, nor tracking the calls has gotten them closer to find out who is on the other side of the line. It has become evident that the guy has a great expertise in computer science to the same level than Felicity. Not even she has had the luck in tracking him down.

Things get so bad at times, that isn’t hard for Oliver to convince Felicity to take a few days off and leave the city. The time away is a respite, an opportunity to regroup. Their most common destination: Las Vegas, where they visit Felicity’s mother, Donna. But real life always brings them back to Star City.

Back to the danger.

Taking into consideration how careful the stalker is, Oliver believes that Felicity isn’t his first victim. There is no doubt that the man is an expert in remaining anonymous, living in the shadows. Both Diggle and Oliver are wary of his growing obsessive, threatening behavior. The few notes that he insists on sending are no longer to woo Felicity but to intimidate her with vile promises and insane accusations. A storm is brewing on the horizon and the time of veiled threats disguised as love letters is over, giving it room for the age of explicit and dangerous pledges.

All that Oliver hopes is to be able to catch the son of the bitch before than he does something truly violent. Oliver wishes to be wrong about that but his keen instinct is telling him that is a matter of time before it happens.

Repeating the same routine of the past year, the morning of Rob Scott, bodyguard-slash-driver, starts with him at the wheel of a car. It is one of his primary duties, working for Felicity Smoak. She sits in the back seat of the car and next to her is the chief bodyguard, Oliver Queen, who also happens to be Rob's immediate boss.

As usual, the ride to the offices of Smoak Tech is colored by a tense silence. Rob has enough wisdom to focus only on his job of driving his boss to work. He has learned after a few awkward incidents not to incite a conversation in the car. Inevitably, a war of wills will be ensued between Felicity and Oliver, battling for supremacy.

Rob has his theories about why Oliver Queen doesn’t step out of the position. It’d be what any sane person would do. Arguing so much with your boss doesn’t create the best working environment, to tell the truth.

Oliver and Felicity's volatile relationship resembles an erupting volcano and, at first sight, the distaste for each other is the one thing in what they can always agree on. However, that isn’t all. If you watch them closer, signs of a different story come to light. A tale based on a much different emotion. As people say, there’s a thin line between love and hate.

Those two have walked along that boundary since the beginning. They fight for the smallest, stupidest things. An insignificant comment can turn into the highest offense, which never fails to incite the exchange of cutting words. And with it, the unresolved sexual tension grows thicker and hotter.

On the contrary, in the calmer times when neither Felicity nor Oliver think anyone is watching them, Rob has often caught one of them staring at the other with a scalding longing. It is such an evident thing that the employees of both companies, Smoak Tech and GA Security, are putting money on when the bosses will get together. Many have already lost their bets and, if nothing happens soon, Rob will partake among the losers.

This morning, Rob can tell that it is going to be one of the bad days. Inside the car, the air is electrified; the current drifts back and forth between Felicity and Oliver. They are staring out their respective windows as if the other doesn’t exist, but their bodies give them away. If Felicity shuffles in her seat, even at in an infinitesimal degree, Oliver adjusts his position to the same extent. It is like if they are joined by invisible strings. The question is if they are aware of their synchronism.

Felicity’s phone buzzes with a text notification, which makes her curse between her teeth, “Frak!”

Oliver turns his head, knitting his brow in a frown, “What? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, flapping a hand in dismissal of him while she sends a replying text with the other. Then she inches forward and asks, “Rob, would you mind going a little faster. I hoped that Mr. Dennis was going to be late for our meeting but he’s irritatingly punctual as usual. Gerry just texted me that the old snob is waiting for me at the office.”

“I’ll do my best, Ms. Smoak.”

“Thank you. And I’ve told you a million of times to call me Felicity.”

Looking at her through the rear mirror, Rob gives her a polite smile. She has insisted since day one to treat each other in first names basis but Rob’s mama raised him right. It is too weird for him to do that while she is his boss. Sometimes, the rest of the team teases him about it because none of them have the same reservation. None of them is uncomfortable having a more informal relationship with her. Not even Mr. Diggle, who is known for having a great brotherly love for Felicity.

When Oliver mutters something between his teeth, looking out the window again, Rob put back his full attention to the road ahead. On the other hand, Felicity’s eyes flash as she snaps her head to the right, barking, “Excuse me?! What did just say? If you got something to say to me, Oliver, say it.”

“You should have gotten up earlier this morning,” he scolds, enunciating each word clearly as he turns his head and glare at her. “If you had had, you’d be at the office on time. Besides, my blueberries pancakes wouldn’t have gone to waste, either.”

“I’m sorry that I had to skip the breakfast you made, the pancakes looked awesome, and they smelled even better but I’m not you, Oliver ‘I-love-to-get-up-at-dawn’ Queen, so I take advantage of every minute I got to sleep. You know that a cup of coffee is all I need to function in the morning. And you ate all the pancakes so that hardly classifies as go to waste.”

Oliver leans menacingly closer to her and hisses, “You can’t live exclusively out on coffee.”

She responds in kind, invading as much of his personal space as the seat belt allows her. “Oh, sure I can,” she challenges.

“Fe-li-ci-ty…”

Rob holds his breath in expectation of what will happen next. He has heard Oliver using that tone with her countless times before. Oliver stressing and dragging out each syllable of her name only happens when the man is adamant to succeed in his plea. And most of the time, it works.

Felicity sighs exasperated, “If I say that I’ll eat breakfast from now on, you’ll stop nagging me about it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then I’ll eat breakfast with you every day. Happy now?!” Felicity snaps back.

“I am. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome!”

Jerkily and as matching ends, Felicity and Oliver turn their backs to each other to stare out the window, giving an abrupt end to their discussion. If Rob could, he would blog his adventures as an involuntary witness to their madness. Everyone would read, loving every word of it. For instance, he would title the entry for this day as “#Married” because that is how they seem to be.

Today is a hectic day at the office, Thea Queen muses. Not only for her but for everyone. Felicity, for example, who since she got to the office hasn’t stopped working. First, was the meeting with Mr. Dennis, then was the video conference to with one of the distributors in Europe and, by the end of the morning, she has her second meeting of the day.

This time, Felicity meets with Thea, as a representative of the PR department, along with Davison Tessler, from the Prosthetic Engineering Division. Both subordinates are in charge of the most pressing project that Smoak Tech has at the present.

Joining to a group of local entrepreneurs, Felicity made a sizable donation to The Glades Memorial Hospital for the construction of a new annex. The adjoined building will house the renovated departments of physical therapy and rehabilitation, next to orthopedics and prosthetics.

Now that the works of construction are done, the new wing is ready to be open. Smoak Technologies in conjunction with the VA Department of Health has created a program through where low-income civilian patients and injured veterans alike will get access to cutting-edge tech, top-quality prosthetics and biostimulatant.

Davison is responsible for the manufacture and delivery of the earmarked goods so the hospital can endow the prosthetics and bio-chips to the respective patients. Meanwhile, Thea is in charge of managing the public aspect of the project: the promotion and the assembling of the inauguration party.

When Felicity asked her to supervise that particular project, Thea accepted with joy. She has put all her heart in it because it is her way to help those men and women who, just like her brother, have sacrificed a lot, even their own health, to serve the country.

Felicity dedicates herself to focus all the eyes on what really matters. Thea shares the same vision on that topic than her boss. What they are doing is exclusively for the people, not as a stunt to get free promotion. Neither is it to get a reduction in the taxes of the company like many of the sponsors are doing. Both Felicity and Thea cares about the needs of those people.

That altruistic heart that Felicity possesses is one of the many reasons for what Thea befriended her as soon as she started working at Smoak Tech. Felicity is not the typical CEO. She is open and akin to her employees. With her uncommon candor and familiarity, she wins everyone’s heart, Thea’s included. Her genius friend always worries about the important things, leaving trivialities aside. That is why Thea takes the responsibility with pleasure and pride.

Felicity told her more than once that she is in awe of how Thea manages to do a bunch of things, all at once and in record time. There is nothing special in what Thea does, or at least, that's what she believes. The secret is to be confident and to love what you do. Without a doubt, Thea loves her job and, therefore, she excels at it. And much more when it is not only to help a friend but to many other people as well.

The three of them, Thea, Davison, and Felicity are in the CEO’s office at the top floor of Smoak Tech building, ultimating the last-minute details.

“I got the confirmation from the hospital that the first batch of the prosthetics they ordered arrived with no problems. Every piece has been counted and checked out. Everything is in perfect conditions,” Davidson reports.

“Great. And when will the second group will be sent?” Felicity inquires.

“Late this afternoon, tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“Keep an eye on that, Dave.”

“Of course.”

Felicity switches her attention to Thea and asks her, “And how are we doing with the press?"

“The conference will be tomorrow afternoon, 4:30 pm,” Thea informs. “I already wrote the speech for you and I sent it to your email. Revise it when you have time.”

Felicity nods, “Okay, got it.”

“All the major networks will be here. The names in the list of reporters were approved,” Thea continues. And then, in a terse tone, she clarifies, “All except one.”

Felicity tilts her head, watching Thea carefully. “Who has gained your contempt now?”

Anyone who dares to inconvenience Thea has to be ready for a merciless comeback. She is ruthless when it came to making pay someone who crosses her. Thea makes justice to the name Queen and her mother’s teachings. Nothing is more important than family and she is willing to protect everyone that she loves.

“Ugh, a shifty reporter with delusions of grandeur plus an incommensurate ambition. She’s capable of going to the lowest levels to get a story.”

Thea shivers inwardly and she might have vomited a little in her mouth, too, just by remembering everything that happens.

“And how do you know?” Felicity asks her, piqued with curiosity.

“Because of what she did, or almost did to my brother. She seduced him while trying to ruin his reputation.”

“Seduced him?! And w—What do you mean by ‘your brother’?” Felicity stammers. “Your brother as in Oliver… Oliver Queen, my hu— huffish, brooding bodyguard?!”

Underneath the anger on her brother’s behalf, which Thea appreciates, a trace of jealousy colors Felicity’s voice. Thea wants to smile at that. She doesn’t know when or if Felicity and Oliver will ever admit having feelings for each other. It is long overdue.

In the last several months, Thea has seen them so many times going back and forth, from bickering bitterly to making dopey heart-eyes to each other. The chemistry between them is unmistakable, evident to everyone since day one. Countless have been the times that Thea almost screamed ‘Would you kiss already’ at them. Their unresolved tension is so dense that it seems like a tangible, thick wall surrounding them.

Nevertheless, the sizzling energy going on between Felicity and Oliver isn’t the unique motive for which Thea prays so vehemently for them becoming a couple. Her reasons are those little things, those little changes for the better that she has seen occurring in both of them.

Somehow, Oliver’s temperament has lightened in a measured degree. During his active duty in the army, Oliver lost some of that joy he used to have when he is younger. Thea is aware that war changed people and she might never see again that carefree, joyful Oliver whom she grew up with, but her heart soars in happiness watching her big brother enjoying life once more.

And Thea is thrilled about Felicity, too, who in spite of her own struggles with trust issues, she has an unbreakable faith in Oliver. She believes in him as she does in nobody else. That trust comes with a renewed strength that Felicity desperately needed.

All that Thea desires is for both of them to be happy together.

“Do I have another sibling?” Thea quips. “Yes, Oliver, my big brother. Eventually, he saw her real colors but not soon enough, in my opinion. I warned the shrew to stay away from my family, especially keeping a good distance from my brother. Otherwise, she’d regret it, but she had the nerve to ask for an invitation for tomorrow. Can you believe it?”

Thea catches the drift when Felicity made a noncommittal grunt. Even when Felicity’s curiosity radiates from her, she prefers to continue that part of the conversation in another moment, when they are alone. Thea agrees. Dave is there, keen to catch a juicy gossip. It’d not take long for the entire company to know.

So instead, they force themselves to focus on the most concerning matter at hand. For a while longer, the two of them discusses with Davison a few other particulars of what they needed to do the next couple of days before the opening gala. When they reach an agreement, Felicity dismisses Dave and Thea put herself comfortable so she can tell everything to Felicity.

“So what’s the deal with the reporter? Who’s she?”

“Does Susan Williams rings any bell?”

“Hmm… Isn’t she a reporter from Channel 52?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh. So… What happened between her and Oliver?”

“This was years ago, just after Oliver retired from the Army and came back home. He wasn’t in the best place back then and I think he was lonely, searching for a connection.” Thea holds her tongue to add that her brother found that connection the day he started working with Felicity but that's a subject for a later talk.

“They started dating,” Felicity prompts.

“Yeah. She never was my favorite person in the world but, in the beginning, I forced myself to be okay with Oliver dating her. Like I said, he is making an effort to transitioning to civilian life, to go back to normal, so I supported him. That is until I eavesdropped a conversation by mistake—”

“By mistake?” Felicity smirks.

“Yes, Felicity, by an honest mistake," Thea retorts, taking offense on what Felicity implied.

"Okay, I believe you. You eavesdropped her by mistake. What did you hear her say?"

"One night that she came over for dinner at my parents’ house, she is alone in the library, talking with someone on the phone. I don’t know if it is luck or she didn’t care, but she left the door ajar and when I walked past by in the hallway, I heard her saying something like that she is close to getting the info she wanted from Oliver, confirming the veracity of what her source had told her. Turns out that she was investigating an alleged claim against the unit where Oliver along with John served in Afghanistan. It was rumored that they were the masterminds behind dirty business over there.”

Felicity gapes, aghast. “What?! That’s crazy! Neither of them would have done that.”

“They didn’t. But that’s not the worst. To make a long story short, I confronted her and -surprise, surprise- she denied it to my face. I didn’t believe one word of what she said, of course. If her lips are moving, she’s lying, I can tell you that.”

“Did you tell Oliver?”

“Of course, I did. When I warned Oliver about it, he dismissed my worry. My brother believed her when she said that it is all a misunderstanding, so he continued seeing her, going against my parent’s advice and mine. We kept an eye on her, though. Our vigilance panned out… we stopped the news story just before it broke out. If it weren’t for my family’s, especially my mother’s influence, she would have taken that report out to the public, ruining the reputations of John and Oliver. Later, she twisted things around, saying that all that she intended to do was to unmask the true culprit, who turned out to be no other than her source. The guy tried to frame Oliver and John by deflecting the attention from him.”

“Whoa! Can’t believe it! I guessed integrity isn’t a valuable trait in journalism anymore.”

“Tell me about it! After what she did, I wanted to chop her head off. My mom threatened to sue the network for defamation, so they almost fired Snoozan,”

“Snoozan?” Felicity chuckles.

“Yeah,” Thea smirks, “I call her that. Or, my favorite, the Dragon Lady. Anyhow, she got lucky and kept the job but they assigned to her only the crappy news stories from then on. Although, it seems that she’s back on her feet.”

Before Felicity or Thea can make a comment on that, Gerry came into her office. “Ms. Smoak, sorry to bother you. There’s a Mr. Hunter here to see you. He’s insistent to talk to you but has no appointment.”

“Who?”

“Stuart Hunter. He says he’s an old friend of yours… from college.”

Felicity tilts her head, peering beyond her assistant to spy the blond man standing outside of her office. He is tall and somewhat handsome. Thea checks him out, too, noting his athletic, well-built figure. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that the man is some sort of athlete.

“Oh… that Stuart,” she mutters.

Something in Felicity’s dull voice tells Thea that her boss isn’t thrilled with her visitor. “Who’s that?”

“A guy I met in college.”

“I’ll go then, so you can re-acquaintance with him.” Felicity sighs with resignation. “Or… you want me to stay?”

“No, no. You can go, Thea. Thank you.”

“All right, then.”

Thea gets to her feet, walking to the door but Felicity calls out to her before she is out of the office, “Hey, let’s have lunch together.”

“Sure,” she nods. “Let me know when you’re free and we’ll go to the Sushi place.”

“Will do.”

After that, Thea leaves Felicity’s office, giving a polite smile to the newcomer as she passes by him. Then, she heads to the elevator. When the elevator doors open a few seconds later, Thea runs into his brother.

“Oh! Hi, Speedy.”

Thea doesn’t return the bright smile that her brother gives her. She isn’t fond of the nickname he has for her since they were kids, much less when he uses it in the workplace. To retaliate, she makes him sweat a bit. “Hey, Ollie. Everything okay? Your ears aren’t burning by any chance, are they?” Thea asks him, with an enigmatic smirk on her face.

The question makes Oliver lose the grin and wrinkle his forehead. “Why?” he asks, shifting his eyes from side to side. “What happened?”

“Nothing much.” She shrugs. “Just that I was talking to Felicity and, well, Susan Williams came up in the conversation. I banned her from tomorrow’s press conference, so the boss wanted to know why.”

Oliver groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You told Felicity what happened.”

“Yeah, I did. Was I suppose not to? I didn’t think it is a secret.”

“It’s not a secret. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Is Felicity in her office?”

“Yeah, but you can’t go in right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because she has a surprise visitor.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Some guy.”

The immediate change in Oliver’s demeanor is evident. In a blink, he stands straighter to make himself taller, narrowing his eyes. “What guy?” he demands, growling with his teeth clenched.

Thea shouldn’t enjoy upsetting his brother but he is such an easy target when it came to anything related to Felicity. Never before in her life has Thea seen Oliver so often being the prey of a not-so-veiled possessiveness. He always has been protective of everyone he cares for, which made him so competent at his job. Yet, because of the feelings he has for Felicity, that innate trait goes overboard.

An unknown man approaching Felicity is the primary trigger for him to become an overprotective, overbearing shadow. An attitude that most of the time irritates the hell out of Felicity. Every time he gets like that, they end up fighting.

Thea is tired of pointing out to him the obvious but her brother is adamant in denying his feelings for Felicity. If only Oliver would do or say something about it. Instead, he broods, swallowing everything in. At this point, offering him words of advice isn’t enough. What he needs is a huge push, therefore, Thea decides to give him one.

She shrugs, “A former classmate, an ex, or something.” Taking the advantage of the split second that it takes Oliver to process that information, Thea passes by him, getting in the elevator. She holds the doors open with her hand before adding, “If I’ve known that such hotties went to MIT, I might’ve applied there.”

“What?”

Thea broadens her smirk, “Wait until you meet him.” Waving goodbye with her fingers, she adds, “See you in a bit for lunch.”

With that, Thea steps further into the elevator cabin, thus allowing the doors to close. As the metal panels meet halfway, she does her best not to burst into laughing out loud at his brother’s face with such eloquent expression on it. Her self-control lasts a few more seconds and when Thea can’t take it anymore, her belly laugh echoes in the reduced space she is in.

Oh, she can’t wait until lunch with Felicity to know every single detail of what Oliver is about to do. Most likely, she is going to hear an earful of it.

 

 


	4. Discord

Oliver forces himself to walk toward Gerry’s desk, trying not to let the instigating words of his baby sister mislead him into thinking things not true. Thea’s intention is clear as day and Oliver is doing his best to avoid falling into her game. He knows better than that. She has tried to make him confess what he feels for Felicity for months now, believing that, by making him jealous, he will let his tongue loose. Oh, but his sister is wrong.

He can’t express out in the open how much he cares about Felicity. No, he won’t do it, regardless of his strong desire to do exactly that. His life is full of secrets and he guards them at all cost. And none is kept with greater zeal than how much he loves his boss.

Their relationship is beyond complicated and hangs off a delicate balance. If anything disturbs that equilibrium, the consequences can be disastrous. People in the outside fail to understand that there is much more at stake than their hearts. Many would call him a pessimist if they heard him saying that even their lives are in danger.

Anyone can think that he is exaggerating but Oliver’s instinct tells him otherwise. He doesn’t care much about his life. He has been close to dying before countless times and he doesn't fear his own death. What scares him to his bones is Felicity getting hurt or worse. That would be a much more devastating fate than death itself.

Of course, staying level headed around and about Felicity is one of the biggest challenges he ever faced in his life. In theory, Oliver needs to be neutral while he is on duty, to have his feelings in check but, in the reality, that is a mission impossible. Beyond all his abilities.

Like now, when Felicity’s office came into his sight and he watches her, sitting on the couch next to her guest and glowing with happiness as she laughs at something the man says. A scalding hot and overwhelming surge of jealousy rushes through him. Cutting and demanding. The irrational outburst of possessiveness compels him to barge into the office and make clear his claim over Felicity.

Only a marginal but coherent thought of what is at stake makes him put the brakes on.

Almost shaking with the effort of changing the path of his steps, Oliver gets to Gerry’s little office at last and stops in front of the desk. “Who’s that in Felicity’s office?” he asks with his jaw clenched, in a poor attempt at keeping his growling tone at bay.

“That’s Mr. Hunter, Stuart Hunter,” Gerry replies, in a hushed tone. “He’s a former classmate of Ms. Smoak.”

Oliver hums. “And, by any chance, do you know what he wants with her?”

“I can’t say I do. He came here without an appointment.”

“Did he now?”

Gerry nods. “Yes.”

Digesting that information, Oliver forces himself to walk out of Gerry’s cubicle and wait in the lounge outside Felicity’s office. He sits in the same chair he always does, which has a clear view of the entire office. Oliver hears their soft chatter, yet he doesn’t pry on it, letting it become background noise.

Sighing, he wishes that the couple had sat in a different position, so he is able to see the man’s face instead of his broad back and blond head. That way he would be able to read the man's body language with better accuracy and assess if he is a real threat or not. Oliver comforts himself, beholding Felicity’s beautiful features instead.

Oliver becomes spellbound by her. He wonders if the day when he stops marveling at her beauty will ever come. The chances are that it will never will happen.

He stares at her with an intensity that is beyond his control. His eyes are the only tool with which he can express the ardent feelings trapped inside him. Perhaps sensing him, it doesn’t take too long for Felicity to shift her eyes and clash her gaze with his. The connection lasts a handful of heartbeats, but it carries so much meaning in it.

So much that it makes Felicity flush. Flustered, she returns her attention to her friend, while Oliver swallows the lump in his throat, having a hard time processing everything that Felicity told him in that one single look.

His cell phone buzzes in his inside pocket with a text from Diggle, becoming the distraction he needs before he drowns in his feelings. He takes the device out and reads the message where his friend asks him to come by The Bunker later that day.

‘ ** _Everything ok?_** ’, Oliver types as a reply and hits send. A few seconds later, the phone chirps again.

‘ ** _Might have something_** ’ Dig writes back.

That seems promising. Could it be that Diggle has found out something new about the stalker? Before Oliver can reply, John sent another text. ‘ ** _Want me 2 send any of R team so u can come over?_** ’

Oliver groans reading that. He is grateful to Diggle for the suggestion. John knows him better than almost anyone else does. That’s why he read his mind with such ease. Sending someone to replace him was exactly what Oliver intended to ask him because hell will freeze over long before he dares to leave Felicity without a proper security detail. At least two bodyguards are with her when she is out in public, and for what Thea implied, they are going out to get lunch. So, if Oliver isn’t going to be there, Rob will need a back-up.

Nevertheless, what causes Oliver so much displeasure is the title for the team. He doesn’t know whom exactly but someone came up with it, labeling the supporting crew of bodyguards Oliver himself hand-selected to protect Felicity. They are his best men and, for some weird causality, all their names start with the letter R. That is where the inside joke came from. And in spite of his objection, the name stuck.

‘ ** _Send Roy’_** Oliver texts. Thea will be thrilled that her new boyfriend is going to accompanying her and Felicity for lunch. They’ve been dating for three or four months now and, even when though for Oliver no man will ever be good enough for his baby sister, he has to admit that Roy Harper comes close.

However, Oliver has the wicked desire of sending another message, changing his choice for Rene, for whom Thea have no love for, just to spoil his sister’s fun. That is what she deserves it for meddling with his life.

Before Oliver falls prey to the childish urge, a final text from Diggle came, simply saying ‘ ** _Copy that_** ’’.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, Oliver notices that Felicity’s guest is leaving. Both Felicity and the man are on their feet, walking toward the door, and saying their goodbyes. For an instant, Oliver breathes in relief but it is short-lived. A new wave of outrageousness creeps on him when the man speaks with a wavering self—confidence.

“I know this is… is short notice, but, um, I’m wondering if you would like to go with me to the gala on Friday night.”

Hearing those bold words, Oliver draws himself to his feet so fast that all his joints protest out loud and, before he can even compute what he is doing, he leaps to Felicity’s door with the intentions of bursting in. He’d have if it weren't for Felicity stopping him dead in his tracks. He clenches his teeth when she gives him a furious, defiant glare. She warns him to stay out, to do nothing.

With that withering look, she tells him that she can handle it. Oliver’s hand tightens around the door handle until his knuckles whiten. His instincts are screaming at him to push the door open. Oliver knows he shouldn’t do anything, yet all he wants is to get in there, grab the guy by the nape, and show him the way out while kicking his ass in the process.

Backing down is a fierce battle between his willpower and his instinct. The former wins by a marginal degree. Oliver takes distance from the door but stays on high alert to everything that Stuart does and says to the tiniest detail.

“Stuart, I’m flattered, but…”

“Say no more, Felicity,” he raises and waves his hand to cut her in. “I understand. You already got a date. A boyfriend, I presume. “

“What? Who me… with a boyfriend? Nooo, no, no. I have no boyfriend,” she laughs nervously.

“Girlfriend?” Stuart asks, tentatively.

Felicity shakes her head, “No, no girlfriend.”

“So, go with me. As you can imagine, as a new guy in the city, I’ve met no new people yet. If we’re both going to the party anyway, why not do it together? As friends and for old times’ sake.”

Felicity sighs and Oliver fears that she might accept. If she does, he won’t be able to stomach it. That will be beyond him. He holds his breath, waiting for her answer.

“Oh Stuart, I’m sorry,” Felicity says, wrinkling her face. By her tone, Oliver has no doubt that she means every word. She regrets turning him down, but Oliver breathes relieved because she is rejecting him. “But I have to decline, okay. My life is complicated right now and, believe me, when I say it's better this way.”

“After all the times you broke my heart in college, Felicity Smoak, I should be used to the pain of your rejection by now but I’m sad to say that no, it’s still painful. Don’t worry, though. I harbor no hard feelings. You’ve been always too good for me. Forever out of my league.”

“Sorry, but you’re the one that kept insisting, over and over again.”

“Yeah… and I’m sorry for being such a bother back then. Do I sin again of that relentless insistence if I ask you to save at least one dance for me?”

Felicity smiles softly and shakes her head, “No, not at all. Of course, I’ll dance with you.”

“Thanks. Well, I guess I better get going.”

“Thank you, Stuart, for reaching out to me. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Moving to Star City and not coming to visit you, the most successful MIT graduated from our class, is just stupid. I’ve lost contact with most of our classmates, but you’re easy to find. And it became mandatory when I learned that you are also involved in the charity event for the hospital.”

“I’m glad you did. I’ll see you Friday night, okay.”

“Absolutely.”

Stuart leans over Felicity to give her a chaste kiss on her cheek and Oliver sees red. This time nothing can stop him, neither Felicity nor a glass door. As he barges into the office, Stuart straightens himself somewhat startled by the abrupt entrance and glances at Oliver.

Returning the glower, Oliver measures Stuart and what he sees doesn’t impress him. The man is about the same height and build as Oliver is. Unmistakably, he is at the peak of his physical condition but, even then, he comes out short next to Oliver, who besides being fit, has a deadly undercurrent, ready to be unleashed at the moment’s notice.

And the tether is about to break.

The manifest hostility emanating in boiling hot waves from him clues Stuart in the unwelcomeness of his presence. Exhibiting a discretion that Oliver doesn’t expect to witness, Stuart gives his final adieu.

“I let you back to work,” he says to Felicity. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, on Friday.”

“I’ll show you the way out,” Oliver snarls.

“No, you won’t,” Felicity objects. “I need to talk to you, Mr. Queen. Gerry can do the honors. Gerry!” she calls out to her assistant , who don’t waste time and gets on his feet. “Please, would you be kind enough to accompany Mr. Hunter to the exit and, if you'd like, you can take your lunch hour now.”

Even if it is phrased as one, that isn’t a suggestion. No, it is not. Oliver doesn’t need to guess why Felicity is clearing out the office. The fight on the horizon is going to be real and brutal. Well, she can bring it on, because he is ready for war. And Gerry, who is versed in their verbal duels and how nasty they can be, takes his opportunity to get to safety before the storm hits.

“Thank you, Ms. Smoak. I’ll be back in an hour,” he says, and then leads Stuart toward the elevator.

As soon as the coast is clear, Felicity invades Oliver’s personal space and snaps, using her loud voice, “What the frak were you thinking, Oliver?!! Have you lost your mind?! I have told a thousand of times that I _hate_ when you get all macho man, dying of testosterone poisoning.”

Unable to resist the challenge, he steps even closer to her. They are almost touching each other, so close that he can feel the heat of her body. She is shaking in rage and the air sizzles with energy. “What _I_ was— What the hell, Felicity?! What was _he_ thinking?! Who’s that guy?! Why was he so friendly with you?”

“No, no! You’re not turning around on Stuart. This is all on you, mister! You’re breaking our agreement by getting so overbearing and overprotective! If I hadn’t stopped you, you’d have gotten in here sooner and kicked his ass.”

She is correct, but… “Overprotecting?! I’m doing my job.”

“Oh, my God!! Oliver, you’re unbelievable!!” she flaps her arms in the air as she steps back. “Your job… your _job_?! Since when does bodyguarding means turning into a caveman? Do I need to remind you that what you’re here for is to protect me from real threats, not to be rude with a friend of mine?!”

“Your friend, huh? If he’s your friend, why hadn’t I heard about him before?”

“Have you told me about every friend you have had in your life?! No! So why would I?!”

“Because I need to know. It’s my j—”

“Oliver!” she cuts him off, “So help me God, if you say it one more time, I’m gonna beat you senseless.”

Even as ridiculous the vow might seem, considering that she has a slender frame of five feet five and around a hundred pounds, a poor competition for Oliver’s mass of bones and muscles of six feet one and a hundred eighty-five pounds, he is well aware that Felicity has the determination and the anger to do it. Besides, she doesn’t need to get physical to beat him up. She has other ways to do that.

“Stop hiding behind that excuse and admit the real reason of why you’re being such a jerk!”

“I’m not admitting anything,” he shoots back, getting closer to her again. “And I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that when we’re here at the office.”

“Well, we’re alone now and that was _your_ ,” she emphasizes the word, poking him in the chest with her index finger, “idea, not mine, so…”

Yes, it was his idea and for a good reason. The motivation is still there, but Oliver is forced to admit to himself that, as time passes, it has become harder to keep up with his own deal. The reaction he just had with Stuart is the proof of it. Be that as it may, it is the wrong time to talk about that. He has to worry about more pressing matters. “Look, Felicity, since the beginning I told you that while you’re technically the boss, there are certain things for what I’ll put my foot down.”

Among those things are the prerogatives of going with her everywhere she goes and staying close enough to her, so she never is out of his sight. He also reserves the right to physically remove her from a place he deems inadequately safe if he believes she is at risk.

But more importantly…

“Banishing anyone from your presence that represents a risk for you is one of those things. I’ll do whatever — _whatever_ — it takes to keep you safe. I don’t care if I’m rude or offending anyone. Your safety is what matters to me.”

“Stuart was not a threat! He’s somebody that I met in college, who by kismet just moved into Star City. Also because of his job, he’s involved with the hospital gala. You have no right to doubt him.”

“I had every right! I’m your—”

“Hey, boss. Are you he—?” Roy Harper sneaks in through the door and pauses when he realizes what he is running into. “Oh, sorry. I better wait outside.”

“No, wait. Come back,” Felicity stops him. “Why are you— why did you come here? Are you looking for Thea?”

“I asked him to come,” Oliver answers for Roy. “Diggle needs to meet with me at headquarters, so Roy’s here to replace me for a few.”

“Oh, thank God! Because I can’t look at you right now. Oliver, go. Just go! And if you take an eternity to come back, great.”

“We haven’t finished talking, Felicity.”

“Oh, yes, we have.”

“Fe-li-ci-ty…”

“Oliver, go! Before I give in to the urge to strangle you. Please!”

Putting much more than just a physical distance between them, she walks away from him, heading to the window to stare outside. He knows her well. So, when she retreats like this on the emotional level, no argument or action on his part can make her see his point of view. His jaw clenches with frustration, annoyed for conceding the battle. For now. Because that discussion isn’t over. Not in a million years.

Perhaps, a little space will do them good to clear their heads and calm down their heated moods.

“Fine! I’m going,” Oliver says, “but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The only sign she gives him that she heard him is straightening her back. She doesn’t say anything or give him a furtive look. Nothing. Felicity dismisses his presence completely.

“Don’t worry,” Roy tells him as Oliver passes by him. “I’ll take care of her.”

He thanks Roy, before giving a last glance to Felicity and leaves her office.

About forty minutes later, after Diggle sent the text to Oliver, he walks into the Bunker showing his most brooding expression. John hasn’t seen his friend like that in a while. Because of his menacing scowl and his growly greeting, Dig guesses in a heartbeat why Oliver is in such a surly mood. Only one person can rattle him that way.

Felicity Smoak.

The relationship between those two is much more profound than either of them wants to let on. Much more complicated and fulfilling. Felicity and Oliver might fool many but not Diggle. He can see through them. Sometimes Dig wishes that they drop the act and enjoy to the fullest the little happiness that life is throwing at them. They both deserve it. But John has never met two people as stubborn as them. So exasperatingly hardheaded.

Following the same path that his friend went seconds before, Diggle walks to his friend’s office, just as Oliver slouches down in his chair, throwing his cell phone on the desk with a little too much force. Dig takes a seat in a chair across the desk and asks, “Hey, man! Everything okay?”

Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales sharply. “I’m— I’m fine.” Straightening himself on the chair, he faces the desk and opens the lid of his laptop to switch it on, again with a little more force than necessary.

“Hmm-mm… really?”

“Yeah, peachy.”

“I can tell.” Diggle shakes his head, amazed by the steadfast denial of Oliver. Something that John won’t let him get away with. ”So… what did she do this time?” No need to clarify who he means.

Oliver takes a deep breath and exhales it, letting out with it all that pent-up frustration that is eating him inside. “I swear to God, Diggle, that Felicity Smoak’s only purpose in life is doing the opposite of what I tell her to do! Can’t believe that at this stage of the game, after working for her for a _year_ … she still doesn’t take my advice seriously, putting herself at risk left and right! And she gets furious when all I do is my job!”

“Something happened?”

“She got mad at me because I don’t trust a so-called old friend of hers that went to her office this morning. The guy went without invitation or appointment.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So?! Don’t you find that suspicious?”

“What’s shady about that? People appear uninvited and unannounced all the time; those who do that are a tad rude but it doesn’t mean they’re a threat. You know that.”

“Even if they get too friendly?!”

Oh, so there it is the heart of the matter. John does an enormous effort to conceal his amusement, keeping his face straight and his lips from curving into a smile. Now, he can see why Felicity is angry. It isn’t because Oliver did his job or distrusted her friend. It is because he is jealous.

Lifting an eyebrow, he questions Oliver’s motivations, “'Too friendly’, according to whom, you or her?” Oliver doesn’t deign himself to reply, except to throw daggers at John with his eyes. “Look, man, you can deny it all you want but you know that I know that you’re in love with her. If you’re jealous, own it.”

“What?! Are you high, Diggle? I’m not in love with her. And I’m— I’m not jealous. That’s completely ridiculous.”

John wants to laugh at the lack of conviction in his tone. If Dig is correct in his suspicions, his friend and Felicity share much more than just an undisclosed desire for each other. If Dig trusts his instinct, he swears that they had broken the limit of the professional affair and gone into the personal territory. He is certain of it. Diggle might not be sure exactly when it happened or how far they had gotten but no doubt that their relationship is no longer exclusively as bodyguard and protégée.

“Oliver, it is me who you’re talking to. I know you, man.”

“Can we change the subject, please? In your text, you said you got something. What is it?”

Diggle lifts his hands in surrender. “Fine, I’m dropping it, but first I’m going to say one last thing. Life is too short and, if you don’t seize now what it has to offer you with both hands, maybe you’ll lose the opportunity to do it later.”

“Diggle,” Oliver warns.

“Okay, okay. Take my advice or not, that’s up to you.”

“So, why did you wanted me to come?”

“We had a development with the last note the stalker sent. A kind of good-bad news situation. The good news is that… Do you remember that it has DNA traces on it?”

“I remember, but didn’t Ray,” their resident geek mad scientist, who took care everything from lab tests to the invention of new security gadgets, “say that it was a sample too small and corrupted to get a reliable gene sequence?”

“He did say that but, as the genius that he is…”

“He got it.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you test it? Do you know his identity?”

“That’s the bad news. There’s no match. We ran it through the police, military, even A.R.G.U.S databases, and nothing.”

Oliver growls, “How’s that possible?”

“It beats me. Most likely, the man had never been on the police radar. Ray also said that, according to the DNA, the guy is a Caucasian of Eastern European ascendancy. Doesn’t seem much, but it narrows down the pool of suspects.”

“Yeah, just to several millions of men.”

“Look the bright side. The guy is getting sloppy, making mistakes, which means that we’ll catch him eventually.”

“We’ve already taken too long.”

“We will get him, man. Felicity will be safe.”

Diggle watches Oliver, wanting desperately to hold on to that hope. He is trying hard but his fears are getting in the way. Oliver almost never talks about what he endured in Afghanistan but, as a brother in arms, John is aware that isn’t that easy to forget the horrors of war. The signs of post-traumatic stress in Oliver might not be evident at first sight but they are there. They intensify when Oliver perceives that those under his protection and those who he loves the most are in danger.

“What are you doing?” Diggle asks him when Oliver drags his laptop closer and types on the keyboard.

“A background check.”

“On?”

“Stuart Hunter.” Then, he clarifies, “Felicity’s… _friend_.”

Curious about the guy, Diggle goes around the desk and looks over Oliver’s shoulder as the information appears on the screen. Born in Ortonville, Michigan, Stuart Ludwik Hunter, Jr. is a lacrosse professional player, who just signed a 4-year contract with _The Comets_ , Star City’s very own lacrosse team. Apparently, after getting a major in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science from MIT, he never practiced the profession. Instead, he tried his luck and succeeded in the sports world.

“Oh, I read something about that,” Dig comments. “Apparently, the guy is a star and a few teams were fighting for him.” It becomes clear by the peeved glare Oliver gives him, his friend doesn’t appreciate the information. Dig just ignores it. “Has he a police record?”

“No,” Oliver grumbles, disappointed. Unsatisfied with his findings, he searches further until he gets to the college years. Pulling up MIT records, Oliver finds what he wants. “Wait… what is this? What the hell?!! Oh, I’m gonna kill the son of the bitch!!!”

 


	5. Scare Tactics

Oliver stomps out of the elevator on the top floor in the Smoak Technologies building, heading to the CEO office with deliberate strides. “Felicity, we need to talk,” he barks, as he rushes in. Giving thanks for the small favors to the universe for having her executive assistant nowhere to be seen because, by how furious and appalled he is, he won’t be able to resort to his manners and fineness. Gerry doesn’t need to witness that.

What Oliver discovered about Stuart while he was in The Bunker strengthened his belief that the guy is bad news. His instinct was correct all along. Because of that, Oliver can’t expect anything else but the second round of their explosive argument. Volatile is the only way to describe his temper at that moment and having a calm talk is an impossibility for him. Most likely, the same is for her, by virtue of the way they left things earlier.

Felicity gasps, startled. “Oliver, what— what’s the matter with you and entering into my office like that? Again! And mind your tone, mister.”

Oliver doesn’t even try. “Were you ever going to tell me that your _guest_ of this morning is the same guy that stalked you in college during freshman year?!” Oliver pauses in front of her with the desk as a barrier between them. He clenches his hands into tight balls at his sides, with his fingernail painfully digging into his palms. It's all he can do, instead of storming out to find Stuart Hunter and beat him into a pulp, like he wanted to do a few hours ago.

At the other side of the desk, Felicity frets, sitting on her chair. “I, um… how did you found out… about that?”

“How do you think? I ran a background check on him. Can you guess what I found? Your report to the campus security.”

Felicity slams her hands on her desk and uses them as support to shoot herself out of her chair. “You what?! That’s what you’ve been doing all afternoon?!” she narrows down her eyes at him. “You don’t investigate every man I meet! Why him?!”

“Who says I don’t verify the identities of everyone meeting with you?” he retorts.

“Oliver! How dare you?!”

She walks away from her desk, rounds it from a side. Oliver does the same, meeting her halfway. Standing in front of each other, he refrains the urge of shaking her to put some sense into her.

“Like it or not, that’s my job, Felicity! You might not see it that way but every person, especially any man, making contact with you is a potential suspect to my eyes. The stalker could be much closer than we hope for! Have you think that Stuart could be him, coming out of the shadows now?!”

“Stuart? Nah... He’s not. He can’t be!” Felicity asseverates.

“Why not?! Give me one good reason why you think so. If he did it once, the statistics say that he could do it again.” The notion that Felicity can’t conceive the chance of it disconcerts him. In the last year, he has instructed her on how to recognize and avoid people with harassing behaviors.

“But that was years ago. Today was the first time in almost a decade that I had contact with him.”

“That doesn’t matter, Felicity. The impulses of an obsessed person can become dormant for weeks, months, and even years before returning to the stalking behavior. I’ve told you that and you know it’s true.”

“But it could not be him,” she insists, her voice trembling while she loses conviction.

“What if he is? I told you what the last letter says. Whoever the stalker is, he wants to reveal himself to you. The letter was sent less than a week ago and this guy comes here today? That’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but… but Oliver, you’re taking this out of proportions, just because of your feelings. You despised seeing Stuart with me and that’s why you’re looking a legit reason to hate him.”

“My feelings have nothing to do with this. That guy having stalked you before is a logical and objective reason for me to be wary of him, you know. I don’t need another. And I won’t allow him to get anywhere near you again.”

“Excuse me?!! _You_ not allowing _him_?!! I’m the only one here that will or won’t consent to do anything with Stuart! Not you, Oliver. You don’t have that right! Do you understand that?”

“All I understand is that I won’t let my guard down just because you don’t want to consider the possibility of this friend of yours —if you can call him that— to be the one who has turned your life into a hell the last two years. I _won’t_ let him harm you. Him or anyone else. And I don’t care if you get furious with me. You can fight with me all you want but I’ll always put your safety above everything else. Am I clear?”

Stubbornly, she remains silent as her eyes spark with fire. Both stare at each other, none backing down in their position. “Felicity,” he warns her with a low growl.

“I’m an adult, Oliver, and I make my own decisions. Until he proves otherwise, I’m not going to treat Stuart like a criminal just ‘cause he made a mistake in his youth. And in case that you are right and he harms me, it will be my fault. I take the consequences of my actions. Therefore, you are staying away from him. I’m telling you that as your boss. If you can’t, then it’s better if you take Friday off and you don’t go to the Gala.”

Like hell he will that. Pigs will fly first before he stays away from her, knowing Stuart Hunter will be in the same room. Going against his every instinct, he cedes, “Fine! But then don’t get mad at me when I say ‘I told you so’.”

For the rest of the afternoon and night, Felicity and Oliver gave a cold shoulder to one to another. They exchange a handful of words and none of them is polite. It continues till the next morning. Felicity has nothing to say to Oliver until he stops being such a stubborn jerkwad.

The tension between them, while they are taking breakfast together, bleeds into the car ride to the office. Once there, they go in separate ways. Oliver needs to take care of something in the Security Department but, before going there, he assures himself that Felicity goes up in the elevator to her office, alone and unperturbed.

That little separation is heaven sent and Felicity is grateful for the little reprieve of solitude. Being in his company and staying this mad at Oliver is exhausting. Draining. He is being unbelievably thickheaded and overbearing but deep down Felicity recognizes that he is only trying to protect her. And even if he denies it, she is certain that his attitude has a lot to do with his feelings for her.

Felicity understands that. Yet, it doesn’t make her easier for her to swallow. It would be a different story if he were willing to work with her to see things from her perspective, trusting in her instincts. After spending most of her life being independent and taking care of herself, the fact that she has to trust anyone to do that for her is driving her crazy. It makes her feel powerless. When she hired Oliver, she believed him when he says it’d for a short time. Now, a year later, Felicity has serious doubts that it will ever end.

Sometimes, she wishes the stalker to reveal himself at last. That game of discovering his identity is beyond annoying and she's tired of it. The uncertainty and frustration that it causes her are eating her alive. Why can't she have a normal existence, where she is allowed to enjoy all the delights provided by life… like a normal relationship with the man that she loves?

Exhaling a long breath, Felicity puts her morose thoughts in the back of her mind and leaves the elevator. She plants a smile on her face, hoping it is convincing enough to hide her inner turmoil. Felicity greets Gerry as she passes by his desk and then heads to hers. Putting her cell phone and purse on top of it, she unbuttons her coat to take it off.

Felicity never gets to do that, though. Her hands stop moving and her blood freezes when she notices an ordinary yellow envelope on her desk. The same kind that the stalker has used before. Felicity’s instinct, that awful lead-heavy weight in the pit of her stomach, is telling her that it is from him. Hoping she is mistaken, Felicity asks her executive assistant, “Gerry, w—who sent that letter?”

“What letter, Ms. Smoak?” Gerry says as he gets up and goes into her office.

“The one on my desk.”

“I don’t know,” he says, by her side. “I didn’t put it there. Whoever brought it probably did it before I got to work, because no one has gone into this office since I’m here. Not even me.”

Felicity’s blood goes colder if that is ever possible. In the past, the mail sent by the stalker came through the normal channels and always got to her assistant’s hands first. Once Oliver took charge of her security, the farthest that those envelopes have gotten is the reception desk in the lobby. From there, they are sent on the spot to the security department. She has months without reading herself one of those missives. When one arrives, Oliver tells her about it but doesn’t let her see it.

“No! Don’t touch it,” she warns him, as Gerry moves forward to take it. “Call security and ask them to send Mr. Queen up here. Now.”

“Right away,” he says, going back to his desk and dialing the security extension.

Meanwhile, Felicity doesn’t dare to move from the spot she is standing, horrifically enthralled by the ominous mail. Her trembling fingers itch to take the envelope but she is aware that she might corrupt any meager evidence on it. The hopes of finding a trace are low, though, considering how careful the guy has been in the past by leaving none. A morbid curiosity to know what the letter says is nagging Felicity. Yet, she resists it. She will be damned if she does something that benefits her tormentor. It's a matter of time for her to know what the message says. Patience is all she needs.

Regardless of how angry and frustrated she still is with him, a warm wave of relief washes over Felicity when the elevator dings and Oliver’s frantic voice echoes in the hallway, “Where is she? What happened?”

“I’m here, Oliver. I’m okay.”

Skidding to a stop by the doorway, Oliver gazes at her for a second, as if he is confirming she is safe, and then rushes to her side. He urges her to face him and rubs her arms. “Are you all right?”

Damn him. Felicity can’t remember a single occasion when, notwithstanding of her mood in those moments, her heart doesn’t melt when Oliver speaks to her in that soft tone that he reserves only for her. So loving. Neither she can hold up against the fire in his intense eyes barely concealed behind his worry. She can stare at those striking blue peepers and lose herself in their depths forever. To avoid the temptation, she blinks and averts her gaze down.

“Felicity,” he insists when she doesn’t reply at once.

“Yes,” she says, putting her hands on his chest. Her right hand detects the strong pounding of his fierce heart, which is beating as fast as hers is throbbing in her chest. Both going at a frenetic rhythm. “I’m fine.”

Going over her shoulders, Oliver slides his calloused, warm hands up to her neck and makes her look up. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “Yeah, um, I’m fine.”

And she truly is, now that he arrived. In spite of all her objections and protestations, Felicity can’t deny to herself that Oliver’s presence makes her feel safer. All that she wishes is to _want_ his protection, instead of the circumstances imposing his presence upon her.

“What happened?”

“That,” she points at her desk.

The change in Oliver’s demeanor is swift and evident. His entire body tenses up as his nostrils flares while his lips compressed into a tight line. He steps away from her and goes closer to her desk. “Has anyone touched it? You or Gerry?”

“No, no. I haven’t even gotten close to it and Gerry didn’t realize that it was there.”

“So, he didn’t put it on your desk?”

“Gerry thinks someone left if before he came this morning to work. But Oliver… Oliver, that means that th—the guy was _here_.” Not even if she had wanted to, Felicity can hold back the shaking in her voice. She is terrified. If in spite of all the extreme security measures that Oliver has put in place, the stalker managed to get in and out undetected. That means that there is no place safe for her.

“Hey, come here,” Oliver says, opening his arms for her. Craving the security of his embrace, she wraps her arms around him, fussing her body into his. Felicity is aware that they are breaking the protocol they both agreed on to maintain in public, but she needs the contact. Only his warmth and strength gives the courage to keep going. “Everything is going to be fine,” he promises. His hands roam over her back in a soothing motion.

“I hope you’re right,” she mumbles.

Oliver pushes himself away, just the enough to see her face. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, I trust you,” she nods. Of course, she does. With her life.

“Then don’t worry. I won’t let _anything_ happening to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Mr. Queen, sir,” a masculine and tentative voice interrupts. By the doorway, stands Rickie, who is one of the two guards that Oliver had suggested firing all those months ago. Only he took the opportunity of training for the bodyguard profession. The other one, Charles, had opted for taking the job as an office boy.

Uncomfortable that Rickie found her and Oliver in an intimate moment, Felicity pulls further away from Oliver while hot embarrassment creeps up her neck and face. She pivots around, avoiding looking the guard in the face.

“What is it, Ricardo?” Oliver asks.

“You really need to see this.”

“What?”

“I asked you to come to see me earlier because of this…”

Rickie comes closer with a tablet in hand where he shows them that, at half-past five that same morning, someone hacked into their system. The intruder put a loop for the feed of the surveillance cameras from several sectors around and inside the building, including the perimeter outside, elevators, and top floor. The breach of security passed undetected for two and a half hours until it was picked up by the daily routine diagnostic done when the guards changed shifts at 8 am.

Oliver thanks Rickie and sends him to bring an evidence bag and some gloves so they can manipulate the letter that is resting eerily on her desk.

“That’s when he got in,” Felicity hisses when they are alone.

“Seems that way,” Oliver says and adds, “But this is a good thing.”

“A good thing?!” she retorts shrilly.

“Yes, Felicity, a good thing because now we have a time frame to work with, and…” he trails off, while walks to her desk. Then he points at her desktop computer and asks, “May I… Can I use it?”

She nods, “Yeah, sure. What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

After a few minutes, Oliver accesses to a secondary video feed from the top floor that not even Felicity was aware of its existence. “When did you install those cameras?”

“Since the beginning. The recording is saved in a different secure server and plugged into an independent electrical grid. The stalker hacked the main security system but I doubt that he was prepared for this. Let’s see…”

Well, if Oliver had put his money on it, he’d have lost that bet. When the recorded feed of Felicity’s office comes on the screen, they see a man going into the office and then leaving the letter on the desk. It’d have been great, only if the face of the guy wasn’t all pixelated. “What the frak?!”

Oliver groans. “He used an optics scrambler, I’m guessing.”

Felicity’s disappointment for not discovering the identity of the intruder ebbs away as she realizes something. “Oh! If he used tech to hide his face, it means that it can be reverse engineered!”

“Hmm-mm… I’ll get Ray on it.”

“I can do it,” she offers. “That’s something in my area of expertise and would make me feel like I’m doing something to protect myself and not just waiting for the worse to happen. Please, let me handle that. It’d make me feel that I’m useful and less impotent.”

Oliver watches her intently as he weighs the offer and, in the end, he agrees, “Okay, you do it. But also I’m giving it to Ray Palmer, just in case. Two geniuses working on it is better than just one. We’re in an all-hands-on-deck situation here, only that way we might get the breakthrough we need.”

Instead of resenting that Oliver is putting someone else to work on the video too, Felicity agrees. Since she has met Ray, they have gotten along well. Both have a lot in common and speak the same language. Working with him will be straightforward and she has no doubt that between the two of them will be easier to unmask her stalker.

She is taking back her life, her peace of mind. At long last!

Soon after that, Rickie comes back with what Oliver asked, handing it over before returning to his post in the security main control room. Meanwhile, Oliver put the latex gloves on and took the letter to bag it.

“No, wait,” she stops him. “Open it. I want to know what it says.”

“What for, Felicity? Either it will scare or disgust you. None of those choices is worth your time and energy. If there’s anything on it that you should know, I’ll tell you later. You know I will.”

“I’m not made of crystal, Oliver. You don’t have to treat me like if I was. Whatever it says, it won’t break me.”

“I know that. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known, Felicity, but that doesn’t mean that I’m willing to watch you having a hard time because of this psycho wrote, that’s all.”

“Flattery will take you nowhere,” she warns him. “I want to read it. Now. Otherwise, I’ll spend the rest of the day imagining it says worse things that what really does. And I have a busy day and I’d appreciate not having distractions,” then, she amends, “Any _more_ distractions, I should say”

“I still think is a mistake, but fine, let’s see what it says.”

Oliver puts a paper sheet underneath before opening the envelope, to collect any residue that might come off while opening the envelope. Having an extreme care, he takes the letter out and unfolds it. As per usual, the stalker wrote in blue ink and with a precise penmanship. So exact and legible that someone with an inexpert eye could argue that it is printed instead of handwritten. But the analysis says it is.

The shape of the letters are beautiful but the words they form aren’t. Even before Felicity can decipher the message, the expression of rage on Oliver’s face tells her that it isn’t a nice one. That what it says isn’t even obscene. The letter is plain hateful. On it, her tormentor accuses her of being a heartless bitch that plays with her victims, like she's playing with his heart, now broken. He tells her that she is an easy woman… filthy, and that the only way to handle the filth is eliminating it.

 ** _You’re better off dead than filthy_** , he wrote.

At the obvious threat, Felicity stops reading. The lump stuck in her throat doesn’t go away, despite all the times that she tries to swallow it. Oliver was right all along, she was better without having read that. She walks away from the desk and draws near to the window to see the magnificent view of the city. A city that she loves, which became her home a short time after she moved there. Felicity took roots here, never considering the possibility of leaving Star City to establish herself in another place. But maybe is time to think about it. However, her fear is that the psycho will follow her anywhere she goes.

“Hey,” Oliver says, coming to stand next to her. He puts a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Remember my promise. Nothing is going to happen to you. Not on my watch.”

She turns her head to see him, nodding and smiling. Felicity does her best but she is sure that Oliver can see beyond the forced curve on her lips. He tightens his grip on her shoulder; not painfully, just enough to make understand that he won’t fail her.

“Okay,” she whispers.

“If I ask something of you, would you do it?” Oliver ventures, “Even if I suspect that you won’t.”

When he phrases like that, Felicity guesses that he is correct. Oliver only says that when the topic is a hot and well-argued point in which they don’t or won’t ever agree on. “You can but, as you said, most likely, I won’t do it.”

He sighs, “Would you be willing to put off the press conference this afternoon?”

Felicity glares at him, feeling as her earlier anger, which has dissipated almost completely, begins to rise up again. Anger makes her feel more of herself again. It isn’t her favorite emotion to have but it's much better than despair and impotence, so she holds onto it. Her peeved expression should have been enough reply, but just in case that he holds any doubt, she says, “No, I won’t do that, Oliver. I can’t. There’s no time to reschedule anything because the event is tomorrow night. If I don’t do the conference today, then when? I have to do this, okay.”

“So that means you won’t heed my suggestion to skip the Gala either, right?”

That proposition angers even more because she knows by heart Oliver’s ulterior motives asking that. Felicity turns to face him with her back straight whilst hot determination dashes through her veins. Oliver mimics her posture. “That’s the worst suggestion I’ve heard you say today. You’re out of your mind if you _think_ ,” she pokes him in the chest to emphasize her words, and he looks down as if he can’t believe Felicity hit him, “I’m going to accept! Your thinking could _not_ be more wrong in this matter.”

“Felicity!” The usual exasperated quality in his tone that she knows so well is there. “It’s for your safety!”

“Are you saying that you’re proposing that I don’t go to this event that means so much to me, and for which I’ve been working so hard because you’re concerned for my safety and has _nothing_ to do with what happened yesterday?!”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying. And you know that it means a lot to me, too. But I rather have you safe than not disappointing some people.”

“Oh, my God, Oliver! Please, don’t treat me like I’m an idiot! I know exactly why you don’t want me to go to that party. I’m going, and that’s that!!”

“Fe-li-ci-ty!”

“I told you. If you can’t handle it, you can take the night off. You stay home, I’m sure that John, or any of the boys in the R Team, can go with me instead.”

“Like hell, they will. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not in a place where anyone could get in. No, forget it. I’m coming with you.”

“Well, then stop being unreasonable and get a tuxedo!”

“I was planning to use my blue dress uniform!”

“Oh!” That unexpected confession throws her off the anger wagon. The emotion is replaced by desire pooled in her belly, hot and delicious. A wonderful image of Oliver dressed in army formal attire forms in her head. Her knees tremble because Felicity has always had a thing for men in uniform. Imagining Oliver wearing that one is the ultimate fantasy. Felicity doubts that she can endure all night watching Oliver dresses like that; it will be a torture.

Oliver steps closer, invading her personal space further and leaning to her ear to breathe a tantalizing whisper, “The same kind of torture that I’ll be in, watching you in that black dress you bought the other day, especially for the occasion.”

Embarrassment and desire whirls inside Felicity. Her temperature rises as the mix rush through her body, flushing her skin. The simple imagery in her head about him and the certainty of how crazy she will drive him too is a potent erotic dream, difficult to escape from. “Oh, gosh! I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Oliver’s smug smirk says it all.

Felicity stutters, “I— I’m, um, I didn’t… You know what, Oliver? Why don’t you go and take that,” she says waving her hand, vaguely pointing at the evidence bag that Oliver held in his own hand, “to analyze and leave me here to die of shame, okay?”

He snickers. Oliver has the guts to laugh at her! “You have nothing to be mortified for. That dress makes you look beautiful, like the goddess that you are.”

She groans. Felicity hates the easiness with which Oliver takes her from one extreme to the other, in a single heartbeat. With chosen words, he is capable of wiping her anger out and inflaming her with a wicked lust. Or from saddening her with some of his stories of the war on the rare occasions that he has opened to her about it to make her burst into laughter until her belly hurt with a silliness that she can’t believe he has in him.

“Sweet talker,” she mumbles between her teeth. Then, much louder and clearer, she adds, “Would you mind leaving? I have a long, busy day.”

“Fine, I’m leaving you to work. I’ll be downstairs on security if you need me.”

“Shouldn’t you take that to Ray?” she asks, meaning the despicable letter.

“I’ll send it with one of the guys, but I’m staying in the building. I won’t leave you. And that’s not for a discussion,” he adds with haste when she opens her mouth to speak.

“Okay, okay. But FYI, I wasn’t going to argue.”

“Good.”

Oliver walks away from her but stops just a few steps away. Turning to her, he says, “I lo—”

“Me too,” she cut him off before he can say all the words. That is a declaration that they never spoke in the office. Ever. Under any circumstances.

Giving her a small smile, he finally goes out of her office and leaves her alone. Felicity sighs, watching him go with a heavy sadness that take place in her chest. She wants him to come back because she misses him the instant that he is gone.


	6. Safest Place To Hide

When the afternoon comes, Oliver isn’t sure where the time went. He barely notices the hours passing while he's so busy, dealing with the damned letter and arranging extra security for the press conference. Oliver never liked any of the messages that the stalker sent before but the latest triggered every alarm in him. Its manifest threat seems more ominous than the ones in the past, more resolute somehow. Deep in his bones, he knows that something is about to happen. When or how, he doesn't know.

But he needs to be prepared for anything.

The only pause he makes in his day is at lunch hour. Felicity is absorbed in her own work too and, knowing her as well as he does, it isn't difficult for him to guess that she would try to skip it. So, he orders her favorites from the Chinese restaurant that she likes so much. In the first instant that he arrives at her office with the food, she dismisses him, saying that she has no time for eating. Her protest lasts until he starts telling her what he has in the bag.

“You fight dirty, Oliver,” she says, accepting defeat.

He smirks, “You leave me no choice.”

After they take lunch together, the events precipitate at an alarming speed. By four in the afternoon, the entire company boils in activity and excitement. The reporters have already taken their seat. Some of them have noticed the notch up in the security. In fact, one of them approaches him and asks him about it.

“Mr. Queen, I’m Marret Davis from Channel 52. May I speak with for a moment?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Davis, but as you can see I'm busy right now. If you excuse me…” He turns around and walks away.

But the Afro-American man doesn’t take a no for an answer and follows him. “Just one question, it’s a security matter. Is it true that the life of Felicity Smoak is in danger? One of my sources says that she has received death threats from a stalker, as recently as today. Is that why of all this security?”

Oliver stops dead in his tracks. He isn’t expecting the man to have such fresh information, which only a small number of people should be aware of. The trust in his employees at GA Security is strong and Oliver doubts that any of them would spit the beans for fifteen minutes of fame. That left only a handful of people capable of giving up that juicy scoop. A short list, including the SCPD officers or detectives involved in Felicity’s case and some Smoak Tech's employees.

At once, Oliver rules out the detectives leading the case because Oliver has come to know the pair as discreet men. He can’t say the same about the rest of the police department. Still, the source could be closer to home. Office gossip runs faster than wildfire and, even when he has dealt with the situation as swift and quiet as possible, anyone could have eavesdropped. He needs to know the identity of that person.

He spins around and asks the reporter, “Who told you that?”

“My source requested to remain anonymous. I can’t give you a name. So is it true?”

“I can’t comment, Mr. Davis. That’s an internal security matter and I’m not in the liberty of commenting on it. Have a good afternoon,” Oliver dismisses the man again.

The inquisitive reporter doesn’t let him escape the second time either. Oliver stops again, hearing the next questions.

“Then, who does? Your boss? Should I ask her?”

Oliver clenches his teeth in anger. The last thing he wants is to throw Felicity to the wolves. This afternoon's conference is to speak about her work and the benefits that Star City residents will receive, especially the wounded veterans, thanks to her generosity. It shouldn’t be to deal with such a delicate matter in the spotlight.

He turns back to the man, “Mr. Davis—”

“Marret!” Thea’s excited voice cuts the growly warning that Oliver intends to give to the reporter. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says coming closer to where they're standing.

The older man gives a polite but sincere smile to his sister, “Thank you for inviting me, Ms. Queen. It’s always a pleasure to meet with you. And perhaps, you’re the right person to answer me, giving that your brother is reluctant to do so.”

The deep-rooted and old instinct to protect his sister flares up in Oliver but, when Thea put her delicate hand on his arm, he backs down. She gives him a quick sideways glance, telling him that she got it.

“If it’s within my possibilities, it’d be my pleasure. You’re welcome to ask any question about our initiative to help the men and women who have served to this country and paid a high price for our freedom.“

“Actually, it’s about Ms. Smoak. Certain information has gotten to my ears and I wanted a confirmation.”

“In that case, you’ll have to wait, Marret,” Thea says smoothly, with a charisma and candor that Oliver has never managed to muster. “We don’t want to lose the objective of this day, certainly not when the announcement the company is making will change the life of many people of Star City and surrounding cities as well. You’re welcome to call my office later and inquire about anything you like. Maybe I could get you an exclusive with the big boss. I know you’ve been asking for one for some time now.”

As the other man considers the offer, Oliver wants to warn her sister about the man’s intentions of asking Felicity about the stalker. His first instinct is to cry out and declare Mr. Davis persona non grata. He doesn’t want him near Felicity. Yet, Oliver knows that any further objection from his part will rise even more curiosity in the newsman.

It doesn’t come as a surprise when the reporter says, “I’m taking your offer, Ms. Queen. I’ll be contacting you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Once the reporter is appeased, he returns to his seat. As soon as the man is out of hearing distance, Oliver growls between his teeth, “You can give him that exclusive, Thea. You can’t. Do you hear me? He wants to know about the stalker and I’m not having Felicity in the position of talking about that.”

Thea’s glaring face tells Oliver that she doesn’t appreciate the… let’s say, strong suggestion, “I know that, Oliver. FYI, Mr. Davis is hardly the first person asking about him this afternoon.”

“Do you mean that other reporters have asked? You can’t comment to the press.”

She nods, “Apparently, someone loosened their tongue.”

“Do you have any idea who? It has to be someone inside the company.”

“Not in the PR department, if that’s what you’re thinking. Everyone there is loyal to Felicity and nobody would dare to betray her. And before you ask, yes, I’m sure. As I’m sure I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job. I know how to handle the reporters."

"I'm sorry, Thea," Oliver apologizes grudgingly, noting that his sister took offense. "I didn't mean to imply that. You're the best in what you do. It's just that it hasn't been the best day for Felicity and the last thing she needs right now is being drilled by a ruthless mob of reporters about that man. Not only that. If this goes out to the public, the recognition the stalker would get could be all that he needs to unleash his boldest attack."

Thea put a comforting hand on his arm. "I know, Ollie. Believe me, the last thing I want is Felicity having to deal with this situation under public scrutiny but it's better this way. Giving an exclusive to a reporter with great work ethics give us the opportunity to control what it's released to the public. I know if I ask Merret to hold on a piece of information until we give him the okay, he will. I can't guarantee that with another."

For much as he hates it, Oliver knows his sister is right. He nods shortly, conceding the point.

About an hour later, Oliver stands at a side near the exit and surveys the room with a critical eye, searching for an imminent threat. He's aware of everything and everyone but his major focus is in Felicity behind the podium. There she is in front of the press, responding to all their drilling questions with a natural charm that bewitched everyone in the room. Her intelligence is incomparable. She wears her heart on her sleeve, showing how passionate she is about her life’s work.

Felicity is a beautiful woman but nothing is more stunning than her mind.

She exudes nothing but confidence and generosity. She's a gentle soul far too beautiful for this wretched world. Which denotes how much depraved is the stalker's mind for him to be so hell-bent in harming Felicity. How could anyone want to hurt her? How could anyone have a bad thought toward her?

Those questions plague him constantly. Yet nothing torments him the most than the fear of failing to protect her. Just the thought of getting to her a second too late before she's harmed knots his guts impossibly tight and bile rises up to his throat.

He can't fail Felicity. He won't!

Oliver is relieved when she ends the press conference and walks in his direction. The impulse to pull Felicity into the security of his arms is almost impossible to resist. Somehow, he does. Keeping his professionalism, Oliver opens the door for her and walks through it right at her heels.

She's safe again and he breathes a little easier.

Oliver finds himself awake in the unholy hours of the morning, with his hands leaning on the balcony railing. He's doing his best to control the panic gripping his heart while his body trembles and beads of sweat glister over his skin. This is an event far from isolated. Ever so often, the demons from his past return to torment him.

His sleep became short and uneven since his time in the army. First, because he needed to be alert at all times during combat and, after he retired to civilian life, the memories of all that he did and endured during war comes to haunt him in his dreams.

Tonight's nightmare was a mix of past and present. In it, his subconscious took him to a time when he was deployed overseas and a group of rebels that his unit had been after took a dozen hostages. The leader held a young woman at gunpoint in front of him as a shield while Oliver tried to negotiate ineffectually with him. Tension and hostility ran high as the leader made demands, none of which Oliver would comply. His orders were to stall things long enough to give a chance to the snipers of his unit to get in position and take the rebels out simultaneously.

In real life, the rescue mission went FUBAR. Neither he nor any of the team knew that there was another man allied with the rebels, acting as a lookout, who caught the movement of the snipers and alerted his buddies. A bloody massacre soon followed. When all was said and done, the four rebels were dead, as well as two soldiers of his unit and six of the hostages, including the woman that had been held at gunpoint. That's without counting the injured, which included Oliver.

But in the dream, just before hell broke loose, the woman used as a human shield transformed before his eyes. Her caramel skin and dark hair changed to lighter tones, meanwhile her earth-brown eyes turn into a pair of intelligent blue eyes that Oliver knows so well. She became Felicity.

Just as all those years before, Oliver wasn't fast enough to eliminate the rebel before the man made the shot. Rage and impotence filled Oliver in such a way that made him physically ill. Before Felicity's dead body hit the floor, he woke up drenched in sweat and with an unbearable tightness in his chest. He could barely breathe as his heart pounded wildly.

He bolted off the bed and stumbled through the loft, desperately looking for fresh air.

Oliver has been out in the balcony for long minutes now at mercy of the freezing wind and he is still struggling to catch his breath. He repeats to himself silently in the head that Felicity is in bed, safe and sound. She's protected. She's okay.

He replays the litany over and over while taking measured breaths, employing a technique he has used countless times before to make his stupid panicked brain stop trying to take over. Using the railing of the terrace as an anchor to reality, he grips it hard until his knuckles turn white. Through every breath that he takes in and out, Oliver forces himself to let go his panic and fight the intruding mental image of a petrified Felicity, reaching out for him with her eyes imploring him to help her.

It passes a while until he grasps the edges of his sanity again and his anxiety subsides to a tolerable level. Just then, it's when he lets go the baluster and walks inside. Still shaken up, Oliver ponders if he should return to the bed but decides against it. Instead, he takes a seat on the couch and turns the TV on as he rests his ankles on the coffee table.

Sleep won't come to him tonight and if it does, the nightmare will return. He knows this. So he better catches up with The Rockets' game he missed from last night. He mutes the TV, mindful not to wake Felicity up with the noise.

Despite that, she goes down the stairs a few minutes later. Oliver's lips twitch, watching the TARDIS-stamped cotton pants and pink top tank that she wears. That's her favorite pajamas. Her love for Doctor Who is beyond his comprehension. She has made him watch every season available.

"Did the lights wake you?" Oliver asks as she reaches the bottom step and walks toward him.

"No, not the lights. An empty side of the bed did. Can't sleep?" she asks him.

"You should go back to sleep some more. You have a few hours before you need to go to the office."

Felicity doesn't fall for his evasive and sits on the couch's arm, next to him. She places a hand on his arm and squeezes in a comforting gesture. "You had a nightmare," she states simply and Oliver can't bring himself to deny it. She knows him too well. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly, no."

Her stare softens, not with pity as it would with most people but with understanding. Oliver knows how much Felicity is willing to help him to deal with his PTSD and nightmares but she gives him time and space to sort things out on his own first. She knows when is the right moment to push him to deal with his feelings and when it's not. Felicity also knows that, eventually, he will seek her when he's ready to talk.

He will but not just yet.

"Okay," that's all she says before reaching her hand out. "Then, come to bed."

Her offer is tempting but Oliver refuses it, shaking his head. Lying on the bed just would leave his brain free to wallow in his anxiety. That's the last thing he needs.

Felicity sits on his lap, putting a hand on his chest while caressing his jaw with the other, and asks, "What do you want? What do you need?"

The answer slips his lips automatically, "You. I need you safe."

"Oh, Oliver," she murmurs before framing his face with both hands and kissing his forehead. "I'm here, honey. I'm not stupid to dismiss or ignore what happened yesterday and the danger I am in but there's no doubt in my heart that you'll protect me. Besides, I'm not as helpless as you always assume."

"I know that you're not." He brushes her cheek with his thumb.

"Then, you should know that I won't go down easy. Nothing will keep me from you, not even a nutjob stalker, okay. I haven't endured all these months of secrecy about you and me to let anyone rob me the opportunity to scream it to the world once this is over. In fact, I'm super tempted to do it right now."

Oliver let his hand fall from her face and his lips set in a grim line. "You can't, Felicity. We agreed—"

She sighs. "Yeah, I know, I know what we agreed on, Oliver, but I'm tired of keeping my feelings for you a secret."

Honestly, he's tired too but hell will freeze first before Oliver put Felicity in more danger than she already is in. He won't fuel the stalker's fire. In the present circumstances, to make of public knowledge that he and Felicity are together is a mistake. One of the things he noticed early on is that when Felicity interacted with a man that had the potential to become a romantic interest triggered a more aggressive discourse and behavior from the stalker. There's no doubt that the guy reacts badly to any man that can be labeled as competition for Felicity's affection.

Oliver doesn't want to imagine what the stalker would do driven by his pathological jealousy if the guy knew Oliver and Felicity are committed to each other. The risk is not worthy. And much less after the latest letter. This secret needs to be kept with a greater zeal. There's no other choice.

That's why they've taken their disagreements to such a level of animosity while in public. In the beginning, the fights were real but, after Oliver and Felicity acknowledged the feelings for each other, they kept squabbling hard and bitter to give the impression of still not liking each other. Given, the trick doesn't seem to work on the people who know them best —such as Thea or Diggle— but it has worked on the stalker. So far, he hasn't objected Oliver's presence in Felicity's life. And Oliver wants to keep it that way.

"I know you are, so do I, but it's too dangerous," he argues emphatically, making sure that his somber tone conveys the gravity of the situation. "And I'll be damned if that psycho takes our relationship as an excuse to justify an attack against you. I couldn't live with myself if I am the cause for you to get hurt."

Panic for his worst nightmare coming true creeps on him, digging its talons deep in his heart again. Oliver wraps his arms around Felicity, pulling her tight against him. His head rests on her bosom, his ear just above her heart. Hearing the strong pounding beat helps him to calm down. "I'd be completely lost if anything happens to you, Felicity. You're the air that I breathe. I'd die without you."

"Nobody is going to die, okay. Not you, not me," she counters softly as she traces her fingers through his hair. Oliver closes his eyes, grateful beyond measure for the contact. He should insist her to return to bed but he can't resist the selfish impulse to keep her by his side. At least for a little longer. Her presence keeps his remnant panic at bay.

Felicity continues in the same hushed, soothing tone, "We'll identify the stalker as soon as Ray and I break the encryption of the optics scrambler. For what Ray discovered yesterday afternoon, we think the guy is using the latest model manufactured by Kord Industry but with some modifications. It's not the first time this guy shows his expertise with tech and coding but it'll be only a matter of time for us to figure how to trump him and, when we do, we'll be able to write the right code to clear the image and see his face."

"So he used a commercialized scrambler? I'll tell Ray to come up with a list of buyers—"

"And cross-refer it with the police's records database? or any other database you guys have access to, for that matter. He's already on it."

"You two thought about everything. Good work."

Felicity kisses the top of his head. "Thank you," she whispers against his hair.

They stay like that for a while, holding onto each other in a pleasant silence and taking comfort from the mutual contact. Eventually, Felicity invites Oliver to come back to bed again with her. He tenses before he can't help it.

"You want to stay here."

Not a question but Oliver answers anyway with a slight nod. "But you should go back to bed, though. You've got a big day tomorrow and need a good rest."

"I won't rest if I know you're down here, brooding in the dark."

"I'll be fine, hon. Don't worry about me."

Oliver gives Felicity a sweet kiss on the lips and, reluctantly, he motions her to get on her feet but she holds on him fast. Shaking her head, she says, "If you stay, I stay."

"Fel—"

Before Oliver can say more, she puts a finger on his lips to silence his protest. "Don't waste your breath, my love. I'm staying here with you."

Felicity's eye shine with an inflexible determination to which Oliver can't fight against. He will lose, guaranteed. Instead of getting into a battle of wills that only can ruin his night even more, Oliver yields.

With the hope of she falling asleep eventually, Oliver suggests to lie down on the couch. Taking the throw on the back of the couch, he blankets them in a warm cocoon. He could do without it but Felicity is forever cold.

"Thank you." Her hot breath brushes against his bare chest, raising goose bumps in its wake. She snuggles closer to him and says, "Explain me this game again."

Oliver smirks noticing that Felicity has her attention put on the muted TV, while she absentmindedly traces her fingers on his ribs. Often, she asks him to explains her the rules of the different sports that he likes to watch but she is forever forgetting them. Mostly, because she falls asleep not a minute later after he starts talking. A conversation about sports is the best somniferous in the world for Felicity.

He should take offense but he can muster the will. In a way, it's adorable when she does it.

The question is why is she so adamant to learn when obviously she has no interest in sports. Oliver guesses that is for the same reason he listens to her talking about technology and coding. He doesn't understand a word of what she says but he loves hearing her voice and watching how passionate she is about what she likes best.

As predicted, Felicity's breathing gets even and deep, softly ghosting over his skin, no much later after Oliver tries to explains her the difference between a foul and a hit.

"I love you," Oliver whispers before kissing the top of her head.

Eventually, much, much later, he also dozes off but keenly aware of having Felicity safely wrapped between his arms.

She is in the safest place to hide.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are most appreciated.


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